


a mirrored heart

by kozen



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Drinking, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Open Relationships, Recreational Drug Use, band au kinda
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 58,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24105259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kozen/pseuds/kozen
Summary: In the summer of 1988, amid music and parties, Baekhyun finds a job and a best friend.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Oh Sehun, Byun Baekhyun/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 28
Kudos: 40





	1. ain't got nothin' goin' on but the rent

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so sorry for the summary, i suck at summaries. ANYWAYS, i've been wanting to write sebaek for years and i finally did it! it's inspired partly by pose (2018) and my love for friends to lovers au. i started writing this last year and worked on it on and off, and now it's almost, almost done! i'll be posting chapters as i edit them so it may take a few weeks, but i'll do my best to finish quickly. also, warning: it's not beta'd properly, so apologies in advance for all the mistakes and terrible writing. 
> 
> the fic is set in 1988! i don't know if i made it obvious in the text so i'll put it here as a reminder haha. [here's a playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2qNK2TWj0AG1Cb7Z1iKAiu?si=KePSOzi2RSma__Uh4bGaiA) i made a for it, which i will probably keep updating. title comes from fka twigs's song of the same name.

“Madonna’s best song is _Lucky Star_ ,” Jongdae posits matter-of-factly. “Period.”

Baekhyun casts him a sidelong glance. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Okay, and what’s her best song according to you?” Jongdae’s leer is taunting. “And don’t say _Like a Virgin_ or I’m not talking to you anymore.”

The streets of downtown Brighton are packed on a Friday night. Students litter the sidewalks, walking in groups past the older crowds heading for a long-awaited pint at the pub after work. Baekhyun keeps close to Jongdae as they tread through a particularly rowdy group of teenagers that looks halfway pissed.

“She changed the game with _Like a Virgin_ ,” Baekhyun argues. Jongdae cackling startles a couple of girls conversing outside a video rental shop. “Remember the VMA’s performance? Who else can do that except for her? And anyways,” Baekhyun pulls a rumpled cigarette packed from his back pocket and puts one between his lips, “ _Like a Prayer_ is her best song.”

“I’m not saying _Like a Virgin_ is a bad song,” Jongdae replies, taking a cigarette when Baekhyun offers him the packet. “I’m just saying she has better songs. _Like a Virgin_ is too overplayed and people hardly understand what it stands for.”

“Okay, Mr. Music Critic, what does it stand for?” They turn a corner and reach the club, Sunshine 29 in neon shining upon the crowd already loitering outside. “A guy with a nice dick?”

“Yeah,” Jongdae agrees readily, his grin cat-like. “And that’s why you and all other bottoms love it.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Baekhyun laughs, pushing Jongdae. Only for his friend to latch on with one arm over his shoulders and another draped over his elbow. “I bet you’ve ridden dick to _Like a Virgin_ more times than I have.”

“I’ll neither confirm nor deny that,” Jongdae says. Baekhyun guffaws, as they push past people to enter the club. They pay their fee at the entrance and head towards the main dancefloor, where a throng is gathered in a semi-circle against the walls. Jongdae clasps Baekhyun’s shoulder and steers him towards a corner with the perfect spot to watch what’s happening on the center.

A couple of men strut on the dancefloor, catwalking while looking haughtily at each other. One of them is tanned, silver glitter over his temples and under his eyes that glows under the club lights. His biceps are exposed by a sleeveless denim jacket, his jeans strung at the ankles. In anyone else, the outfit would look like a sacrilege, but in this man, it looks impossibly handsome.

“Okay, Jongin is serving us face and body!” a man hollers through the mic. “And I’d like him to serve me, if you get my drift!”

People cackle and hoot from the sides. Jongin smirks at the man, striking a pose with his hips jutted to the side and his arm arched over his head. The other man slinks over to the man with the mic, leaning forward towards him and vogueing with his hands. The announcer laughs, waving him away with a hand, and the other man struts away, not without throwing the other a scathing look as he goes.

“Judges, your scores!”

A line of drag queens lift signs with different numbers. Jongin wins with a whopping round of tens, and the crowd goes crazy with cheers and small proclamations of a rigged panel. A queen gives Jongin a trophy, which the man flaunts at the crowd before he goes back to a group that lurch at him for a hug.

“Jongin is so hot,” Jongdae comments. “He wins these categories every single time. I bet he doesn’t even have to show up to win that trophy.”

“Someone’s got a crush,” Baekhyun singsongs, nudging his friend with an elbow. Jongdae shrieks and puts Baekhyun in a headlock, until Baekhyun promises he won’t repeat that to anyone.

“Next category is…” the announcer speaks, “Virgin Runway!” He waves over to the dancefloor, where a couple of men are strutting along over it. “Let’s welcome our Runway babies and hope this first time doesn’t hurt!”

Baekhyun chuckles then hoots along with Jongdae, who is louder than most people around them. The men in the dancefloor catwalk, wearing clothes taken out of Macy’s mannequins. A tall, slender guy with platinum hair slips his jacket off his shoulders, exposing a threadbare tank top under suspenders that barely cover his nipples. He has a serious face, thick eyebrows, plush lips that open slightly whenever he strikes a pose, and barely any makeup from what Baekhyun can tell, and yet he’s the most stunning man Baekhyun has seen in his life.

“Sehun is giving us all face!” the announcer points to the stunning guy. “All Versace realness over here!”

“Dude, he’s hot,” Jongdae proclaims.

“What’s his name?” Baekhyun asks.

“What?” Jongdae directs a particularly greasy smirk towards him. “Got your eye on him?”

“No, I was just asking,” Baekhyun rebuts with a playful shove. “Dickhead.”

“Good, ‘cause he’s Junmyeon’s boy.” Jongdae pats his shoulder. “He likes them old.”

“Junmyeon is not that old.” Baekhyun pouts at the man who is standing at the side, clapping at Sehun enthusiastically, like a father at his child’s first recital. Sure, Junmyeon’s been a good few years out of college and works a boring office job or something, but still.

“Judges, your scores!” the announcer asks. Sehun struts to the forefront. Eight, eight, nine, ten. “Not bad for a rookie, but come back next time, darling!”

Sehun goes to Junmyeon, who hugs him loosely and drags him toward the crowd. Baekhyun watches them until they disappear among the spectators and another set of contenders steals his attention.

It’s an hour later that Jongdae finds Mina and Momo, who are dragging Yixing with them. Baekhyun has got his eye on Yixing lately, ever since he found out the man can fuck as good as he looks.

“We’re going to Rainbow for drinks,” Mina screams over the music. “Wanna go with us?”

“Sure!” Jongdae answers, wrapping an arm around Baekhyun’s waist. “Maybe we’ll see Chanyeol over there.”

Chanyeol has been Baekhyun’s thing for the past six months. After a dance and a drink, he will surely go home with the man, and he can’t say he will be overly sad about it.

“Are you still fucking him?” Momo asks over her shoulder, as they make their way through the crowds towards the entrance.

“Yeah,” Baekhyun tells her, “he has a huge dick.”

Momo and Mina explode in laughter, that can match Jongdae’s in loudness. Jongdae, on the other hand, is patting Baekhyun’s back proudly. “Spoken like a true bottom.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jongdae,” Baekhyun tells him, shoving him playfully. Jongdae cackles, true to his annoying fashion and skips ahead and away from Baekhyun. Chanyeol is actually the one who likes to receive most of the time, but Baekhyun doesn’t bother correcting his friend.

“Guess what I heard!” Momo’s gaze is conspiratorial. “Seulgi dumped that girl from Bristol.”

“Are you for real?” Jongdae’s eyes grow wide. “But Seulgi was so into her!”

Baekhyun pretends he hadn’t already found out from his friend. He gives Jongdae a pointed look when he turns to him for confirmation. Jongdae may be his best friend, but he’s also the worst gossipy bitch in town. “I think we should all mind our business, girls!”

Mina and Momo pinch his arm and Baekhyun emits a piercing shriek to make them laugh. It works to put the subject of his friend’s love life to rest.

For a Thursday night, the pub is packed. They have to squeeze through the crowd to get to the bar and order drinks, then stand around in a corner until a table clears. Jongdae and Momo jump at the chairs before another group takes it and Jongdae nearly misses and hits the floor. Baekhyun laughs as he takes a seat and nearly chokes on his drink when he glances over at the bar.

There, against the bar, stands Sehun, a drink in one hand and Junmyeon in the other. Sehun is squeezed between pub-goers, Junmyeon standing in front of him. He looks just as gorgeous as he did back in the club, if not even more so under the slightly better lighting. His hair is pushed off his face, falling in an effortlessly elegant curl over his forehead, his jacket hanging off his right shoulder to show a pale patch of skin where his tank top meets his shoulder.

Baekhyun is forced to look away when Jongdae shakes his shoulder to steal his attention. But his eyes keep wandering over to the bar until Sehun catches him, right before his boyfriend takes his hand to lead him into the crowd.

Chanyeol shows up an hour later with Irene and Seulgi in tow. Irene is wearing a tight, shoulder-less top and ginormous hoop earrings, which has all the girls looking in her direction. Seulgi sticks to her closer than usual; her hair is now streaked in bright green, where it was blue just yesterday. Baekhyun’s about to tease her— _so it’s true girls change their hair when they have a breakup, huh_ —but bites his lip and saves it for later.

But Chanyeol spares him no time to say anything as he drags Baekhyun towards the bar first thing. The excuse is to get a drink, but really, Baekhyun knows he wants to grope him and make out in a secluded corner—and who’s Baekhyun to say no to his fuck buddy.

“Did you go to Pose tonight?” Chanyeol shouts over the music. He clutches his hip effortlessly, and Baekhyun loves it, loves the width and girth of his fingers. Just thinking about them is making him horny, or it may be a combination of Chanyeol and the alcohol.

“Yeah,” shouts Baekhyun over his shoulder. “There was this new guy there who was freaking hot!”

“Which one?!” Chanyeol shouts back. _Slave to Love_ starts playing then. Chanyeol scrunches his nose, the song having caught his attention. “Man, the music here sucks!”

Just as Baekhyun is about to refute him, because _it’s a freaking lie_ , Sehun appears within the crowd, sans Junmyeon, and stops over his tracks when he spots them. Sehun’s eyes fall on Baekhyun with some kind of recognition, his small, pink mouth pursed. Then he retreats back into aloofness and Baekhyun figures he imagined the whole thing.

“Sehunnie!” Chanyeol shouts, nearly deafening Baekhyun in the process. Baekhyun barely misses Chanyeol’s foot as he sidesteps him to hug Sehun one-armed. Sehun’s eyes have shrunk, a little fond smile playing on his lips. It makes him look younger, innocent, but no less stunning.

Of course Chanyeol would know Sehun. Chanyeol knows everyone in Brighton, gay or straight. Judging by the fondness in his tone and gaze, Baekhyun figures they go way back, though Chanyeol does have a tendency to treat everyone that crosses his way like an old friend. Baekhyun often teases him that he’s like a big, clingy dog in that way.

“Were you at Pose tonight?” Chanyeol clasps Sehun’s shoulder. “Irene told me you would go!”

“Yeah, I did,” Sehun answers, his voice deeper than Baekhyun thought. His attention reverts to Baekhyun. “Didn’t get a trophy. _Again._ ”

Sehun rolls his eyes in the last word. Baekhyun and Chanyeol laugh in unison. Sehun’s gaze flicks to Baekhyun at the sound and returns to Chanyeol in the span of a second. He wears an immaculate mask of confidence, but if Baekhyun were to guess, he would say he’s a little embarrassed.

“Better luck next time!” Chanyeol says, shaking his shoulder. Sehun smiles, and Baekhyun can tell it’s not faked at Chanyeol’s clinginess. “Oh, I wanted you to meet Baekhyun. Baekhyun, Sehunnie. He dances at the academy I work at!”

“Hey,” Baekhyun manages out, offering his hand. “Nice to meet you.” Sehun looks at his hand then back at Baekhyun before he shakes it. Baekhyun memorizes the smooth texture of his hand, the cold feel to his palm—not unpleasant, the kind that would go well right now with the summer temperature packed into a single place and scorching his skin.

“Nice to meet you, too.” Sehun’s voice is timid but firm. He holds his gaze a second longer before it falls to his shoes. Baekhyun smiles. The boy’s terribly cute. “I should go find Junmyeon now… I don’t know where he went.”

A hint of nervousness sneaks into Sehun’s voice, breaking at the last syllable of his sentence. He looks out into the crowd, eyes flitting anxiously over the surrounding throng. Baekhyun understands then he might be nervous to be alone in a packed room like this.

“What if you join us until we find Junmyeon?” Baekhyun offers. Chanyeol takes Sehun’s hand, probably having sensed his nervousness as well. Chanyeol is as good as Baekhyun at reading people, which makes for their sex an interesting affair.

Sehun seems unsure at first, until he offers a subtle bob of his head. Chanyeol leads Sehun by the hand through a sea of people that yields to their combined height. Baekhyun follows behind, feeling somewhat funny at being in the company of such gorgeous people—Chanyeol could easily pass off as a model with those legs of his and Sehun is already walking the underground runways. People watch them as they pass by, some stopping on Sehun, others even on Baekhyun. He’s wearing his tight jeans tonight, knowing that he would take Chanyeol home. As they walk, his eyes wander down to Sehun’s ass, round and unmistakable in those jeans, which elicits a tiny smirk of appreciation from Baekhyun.

When Junmyeon proves nowhere to be found, Chanyeol offers to look for him alone. Chanyeol darts in the direction of the bathrooms and leaves Sehun and Baekhyun engaged in an awkward silence in his wake.

“So, what do you dance?” Baekhyun asks, to break the silence. Sehun eyes him with slight surprise, his thin eyebrows raised. His expression smooths a second later, and he looks towards the crowd, in a practiced effort of offhandedness.

“Ballet,” Sehun replies casually. “Chanyeol plays the piano in some of our classes.”

“Chanyeol plays really well,” Baekhyun remarks. “What are male dancers called? Ballerinos?”

“Danseurs.” Sehun’s pink mouth puckers around the word. His profile is striking—it belongs in the Louvre, in Baekhyun’s humble opinion. He should be worshipped. “But that’s French. Everyone just calls them ballerinos.”

“I bet you dance beautifully,” Baekhyun praises him. Sehun’s shy smile is instant. “You almost got that trophy in the bag tonight.”

“Thanks,” Sehun says, turning to Baekhyun again. There’s something smoother about his features. “But I don’t think I’m doing it again… Jongin always tells me to loosen up a little, but I think I enjoy dancing a lot more.”

“Jongin was born to walk in Pose,” Baekhyun tells him. “He knows what he’s talking about. And he’s gorgeous, isn’t he?”

“He is,” Sehun agrees with a chuckle. He relaxes against the wall, arms folded loosely over his torso, his feet crossed. His smile is cute, uneven teeth and crescent eyes. Baekhyun strives to see it again. “Jongin knows he’s hot.”

“He does,” Baekhyun says. “If I were him I wouldn’t stop reminding people I’m hot either. Though Jongin is a total puppy when he’s not dancing or modelling.”

Sehun shows his teeth again, his hand flying out to cover his mouth lazily. Baekhyun bites his lip, a frown creasing his forehead. Sehun has a beautiful smile for him to be self-conscious about it. _Karma Chameleon_ is playing now, and it never fails to make Baekhyun want to dance. Though he isn’t sure Sehun would want to if he offered—he is searching for his _boyfriend_ after all, the reason he spoke to him in the first place.

Chanyeol and Junmyeon file through the crowd then, Junmyeon grinning apologetically at Sehun. Up until then, Baekhyun had never seen someone cross his arms with as much childish petulance as Sehun does. It’s quite amusing.

“Where did you go?”

“I’m sorry, Sehunnie, I ran into a guy from college and we sort of got talking and I lost track of time…”

“Okay, buy me a drink to make up for it,” Sehun orders, steadfast. His chin is somewhat angled, his eyebrows thin and stern.

Junmyeon tilts his head, unwilling to give in, but he does with a sigh in the end. Baekhyun and Chanyeol watch on the exchange humorously, and Junmyeon smiles at them with a weary roll of his eyes.

“You guys want a drink, too?”

“We should be getting back to our table,” Baekhyun says, grasping Chanyeol’s wrist. “But thanks, Junmyeon, maybe next time. It was nice seeing you, guys.”

“Wait,” Sehun says, stepping forward. Baekhyun stops and turns back. “Come sees us dance tomorrow at the pier. I’m going to be there with Jongin.”

“Alright, Sehun!” Baekhyun beams, truly pleased and surprised. Sehun gifts him a tiny smile, that Baekhyun cherishes like a trophy. “I’ll see you tomorrow then!”

Sehun waves and turns back to where Junmyeon is waiting for them. On his end, when Baekhyun turns back, Chanyeol is staring at him with a small, knowing smile.

Baekhyun arches an eyebrow, lips jutted out in defense. “What?”

“Nothing,” Chanyeol replies, taking his hand. “I don’t feel like drinking more. Let’s go home.”

The phone interrupts Baekhyun’s breakfast on a Saturday morning. He leaves his tea and his copy of _Breakfast of Champions_ at the little round table and pads to the phone in his slippers.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol’s deep voice greets him on the other line. “I need to ask you a favor. If you do this for me, I’ll promise you I’ll do whatever you want next time we meet up.”

“Whatever I want,” Baekhyun hums, his interest definitely piqued. “What is it?”

A couple of hours later Baekhyun finds himself on a bus headed to the heart of Brighton. Chanyeol had been vague about the details—all he had to do was play the piano for a ballet class because he couldn’t make it after his sister’s dog had fractured its hind leg and she needed someone to go to the vet with her for moral support. The Parks are close like that.

The academy is in a nondescript building, only a plaque on the door to indicate its purpose. As Baekhyun climbs the stairs, he marvels at the faint music notes filtering out of different rooms, the echoes of commanding voices slipping past half-closed doors, the highly polished wood creaking under his feet.

The classroom is at the end of a hallway on the third floor. When Baekhyun walks into the room, he’s assaulted by nearly blinding light; sunlight pours from high-ceiling windows, enhanced by the sparse white walls. A wall-length mirror lines the back of the room and an impressive baby grand sits at the opposite end, where a middle-aged woman is flipping through a thin folder. The woman looks up and smiles at him when he approaches, her green eyes as kind as her smile.

“You must be Baekhyun,” the woman says. “Chanyeol called earlier to say he couldn’t make it today, but that you could play the piano, and I quote, better than Mozart.”

“That’s reaching,” Baekhyun laughs. “But I’ll try my best to not disappoint.”

Ten minutes later, the students waltz in. Baekhyun’s shocked to see Sehun walk in dressed in joggers and a tank top—just as shocked as Sehun seems to be when he sees him. A second later his surprise melts into a smile that he sends in his direction when he takes his position with the rest of the class. 

The pieces in the sheets are customary classical pieces. Baekhyun plays through them with ease, listening attentively to the teacher’s directions. Since his back is to the student body, he sneaks a peek at the mirror once in a while to catch a glimpse of Sehun, whose face has completely transformed from the pensive, wide-eyed boy to a focused and driven man. It’s such a mesmerizing thing to watch, Baekhyun almost misses a note at one point, which he’s sure the teacher noticed.

When the class is over, the teacher gives an applause to the class, that she then directs to Baekhyun. He stands, faces the class and bows in an affected way, drawing laughter from some of the girls.

Sehun is smiling at him, in that lopsided, understated way that Baekhyun has categorized as amused. The dancer’s clad in a loose shirt and tights—and Baekhyun finds it hard not to stare at his ridiculously firm thighs.

Sehun walks over to him only after the class has left the room, traces of that smile remaining. “Hey, this is a surprise.”

“Hey,” Baekhyun says, smiling, “I had to chip in for Chanyeol. Pet emergency.”

“Oh, I hope Tobennie’s alright.” Sehun’s mouth flattens in momentary concern and softens in the blink of an eye. “But anyways… I didn’t know you could play the piano like that.”

“Like what?” Baekhyun quirks his mouth. “Like a musical genius?”

Sehun laughs, all crescent eyes and crooked teeth. His bangs are damp, dangling loosely over his forehead, and his cheeks are red from exertion, his skin glowy and ripe from sweat. For a brief moment, Baekhyun wonders if his skin would be warm if he dared to touch him.

“You sure play well,” Sehun says, stroking his arm. The touch is small, discreet, but it lingers on Baekhyun like a stamp. His palm is cold. “I really enjoyed it.”

“Thanks,” is Baekhyun’s cheerful response. Just then, a clerk comes in, and clears her throat at seeing them there. “We should get going. Are you hungry? I haven’t had lunch yet.”

“A little,” Sehun says, hesitant. “I know a great place around here—I can show you, if you don’t have another place in mind.”

Sehun leads him to a restaurant a block from the academy, where _the best burgers in Brighton_ are sold, according to a sign in the pavement. There are a few patrons inside, enjoying coffee or a dessert, in the interim between the rush of the lunch hour and dinner.

“What about your diet?” Baekhyun asks, when the waiter brings their orders. The biggest cheeseburger he’s seen in his life sits in front of Sehun, who looks at it like a lifeboat in a storm.

“This is my cheat day,” Sehun explains, laughing along with Baekhyun. “And besides, these burgers are worth it.”

Baekhyun takes a huge bite out of his burger and hums in delight as all the flavors explode in his mouth. Sehun is staring at him, waiting for his reaction, an expectant glint to his eyes.

“This is the best damn thing I’ve ever tried,” Baekhyun mumbles, rushing to grab a napkin to wipe his mouth. Sehun laughs at him openly, the high-pitched sound childlike. Baekhyun finds it endearing, even if it’s at his expense.

“They are the best damn burgers in all of Britain,” Sehun agrees. Taking a bite of his own burger, his brows scrunch down unconsciously. It’s such a funny expression that it earns a chuckle from Baekhyun. “I love them.”

“You know the best places to eat around here,” Baekhyun remarks. “I wonder what other places you know about that I haven’t discovered yet.”

“I could show you sometime,” Sehun suggests easily, “if you want.”

Baekhyun sips on the straw of his coke as he considers the offer. Sehun had thrown it across in a carefree, confident manner, as though it was an everyday thing that he invites a virtual stranger to his favorite spots in the city. Maybe it is. Sehun has a way to make people feel comfortable once he lets you in. And it’s this, and the prospect of knowing more of Sehun, that entices Baekhyun the most.

“That’d be nice,” Baekhyun says after a pause. “I’ll take you up on that offer.”

“I have news,” Chanyeol announces on a hot Saturday afternoon. “One that will make us happy and one that will make us sad.”

“Did your dad invest in a working AC?” Jongdae says, and Seulgi snorts. “It’s freaking hot in here…”

“I’ll start with the sad news first,” Chanyeol plows on, a row of perfect teeth on display. “It’s—well—Sunmi won’t be coming back to the group.”

“What?!” Seulgi screams. “Why’s she leaving?!”

“I knew she was going to leave.” Jongdae’s sly grin sharpens his features further. “I saw her talking to a guy from London last week at Rainbow. Dude looked rich.”

“What did she tell you?” Baekhyun asks. Sunmi has an amazing stage presence; it is mostly thanks to her and her connections that they’d landed a small number of gigs so far. A part of Baekhyun knew she was too big for the band.

“Just that she was moving to London to try her luck,” Chanyeol explains. “And that she wishes us the best of luck, but that she wasn’t going to keep spending her days in my garage.”

“Ugh.” Seulgi’s pink Converse stomps the ground along with her small fist. Baekhyun smiles at her fondly. Seulgi is so cute, it’s impossible to deem her threatening. “I knew she thought she was too good for us. What’re we going to do now?”

“We still have the gig at Colonia.”

They all look to Chanyeol for reassurance. Chanyeol has a square grin where his gums peek out.

“The guy at Colonia has cancelled,” Chanyeol says meekly. “He said he’d only given us the spot because Sunmi was with us.”

“Fuck that guy!” Baekhyun ruffles his hair with frustration. “Can anyone take one for the team and suck his dick or something?”

“Shut up,” Seulgi says, pushing him hard. Jongdae whines and Baekhyun thinks it’s deserved. “I’m not that crazy about this band.”

“Because she likes Irene.” Jongdae uses a high-pitched voice to tease her. Seulgi scowls, smacks his arm away when Jongdae attempts to tickle her. “How’s that going by the way?”

“Leave her alone.” Baekhyun smacks his notebook against Jongdae’s arm. Jongdae complains about everyone hitting him today and Seulgi only sticks her tongue out at him. “But yeah, tell us how it’s going with Irene.”

“It’s not going, alright?” Seulgi insists, growing exasperated. “I didn’t break up with someone just to get with my best friend.” She stands abruptly, rummaging in her shorts pockets for change. “Well, since the band is done for, I’m going to buy a coke!”

“I’m going with you!” Jongdae slips coins from his wallet and counts them on his palm. “I want some ice cream. I’m freaking melting here!”

“Wait!” Baekhyun grabs her ankle and Seulgi nearly trips. “What was the other news, Chanyeol?”

“My dad is buying a new AC for the garage…”

Seulgi lets out a cackle before she leaves. Jongdae simply shouts a, “Thank god!” and follows after Seulgi.

“Is that it?” Baekhyun gawks at his friend. Since Chanyeol’s awkward grin doesn’t budge, he rubs his palms over his face tiredly. “The band is done, isn’t it? We’re going to just rehearse forever in your garage…”

“Well, that’s better than no band!”

“I guess.” Baekhyun does have fun playing with his friends on his free time. But secretly, he’d harbored dreams of making it big; a manager spotting them from the crowd and signing them into a record deal on the spot. They’re silly, childish dreams, he’s well aware, and they’re fading quickly with age, the harder it gets to score a gig at live clubs around town.

“It doesn’t matter if we never get to play live again…” Chanyeol trails off. It’s like he’s trying to convince himself, so Baekhyun smiles encouragingly. “We can play for ourselves.”

“That’s what we’ve been doing all along,” Baekhyun assures him. “It’s fun to play with you, guys. If it wasn’t, I’d be out the door right now.”

“Good to know.” Chanyeol corks his mouth to one side. “Maybe I should sleep with that guy to get that gig.”

“God, Chanyeol, it was a joke.” Baekhyun’s groans breaks into a laugh. “How about you sleep with _me_ tonight? I’m free after this.”

Chanyeol’s shining teeth are back on his face. “That’s a way better prospect.”

Baekhyun is watching the news one morning when the phone rings. There has been a bomb explosion near Belfast, and he walks backwards towards the phone, still glued to the morose voice of the reporter.

He expects it to be Chanyeol, since he’d called earlier to say he was coming over after lunch, or even Jongdae, inviting him out for a drink. When Baekhyun answers, however, it’s a voice he hasn’t heard in a long time that greets him and manages to make his stomach coil.

“Hey, Baekhyun,” says his brother. “Are you busy?”

A man slips out of his room, his belt undone. The strings from the beads curtain fall over Yixing’s face, and he sputters as he tries to free himself of them. Baekhyun has to bite his tongue to curb a snicker, his eyes roaming over Yixing’s naked, god-like abs.

“No, I’m not busy,” is Baekhyun’s coarse reply. “How are you?”

Yixing grabs his shoes from behind the couch, where he’d dropped them the previous night, and buckles up his belt. He throws a smirk at Baekhyun as he goes to fetch his shirt from the coffee table.

“Good,” Baekbeom replies curtly. Baekhyun winces on his end. “Listen, mom wants to know why you haven’t called in a while.”

On cue, a rush of guilt zips through him. “I’ve been busy,” Baekhyun cavaliers, angling his body away from Yixing. “I’ve been looking for a job and…”

“You have a job?” Baekbeom hums with a dash of disbelief. Baekhyun stares at the ceiling. “You’re not partying every night to the point you’re too hungover to talk on the phone the next morning anymore?”

Yixing stands by the door, all dressed. He’s read the mood, apparently, for his faint eyebrows are raised towards Baekhyun in concern. Bless his gorgeous heart.

“As you can see,” Baekhyun rebuts, keeping his anger at bay, “I’m home right now and I’m not drunk.”

Baekhyun curves down his mouth as a signal. Yixing nods, understanding, and takes his leave with a sweet smile framed by twin dimples. Last night with Yixing was wonderful; he sighs wistfully at the lost chance of another round in the hay.

“Well, I never know with you,” Baekbeom tuts, coldly indifferent. “Anyways, give mom a call sometime this week. She misses you.”

“Okay, I will,” Baekhyun says. “By—”

The call ends and the busy ring replaces his brother’s serious voice. Baekhyun keeps the receiver to his ear for a second longer, breathing in and out, and places it back in its holder on the wall.

When Chanyeol arrives sometime after three, Baekhyun is blasting _Where Do Broken Hearts Go_ by Whitney Houston in his bathrobe.

“Are you alright?” is the first thing Chanyeol asks.

“Yeah, why?”

“You always listen to Whitney when you’re sad.” Chanyeol’s almond-shaped eyes search his face, brows knitted together. “Did something happen?”

Baekhyun forces out a chuckle to ease him, dragging Chanyeol inside by his arm. “I’ll feel better when you fuck me.” A wicked smile erases the lines of concern over Chanyeol’s face. “So you should get to it quick.”

With a grin mirroring his own, Chanyeol shrugs off his jacket and tosses it over Baekhyun’s couch. “Say no more.”

“Wait!” Baekhyun scurries over to the hall and covers with a silk scarf the head of a Prince cut-out taped to his wall. “We don’t want him to see the nasty stuff!”

“You’re ridiculous,” Chanyeol laughs. “I think he’s seen worse before.”

“Well, we don’t want him to see more,” Baekhyun rebuts, then yanks at Chanyeol’s shirt to lead him to the couch. “Now, where were we?”

A Friday night finds Baekhyun and Jongdae in a club in Kemptown. They’ve been dancing with Seulgi and Irene when Baekhyun breaks away to get another drink.

On his way back from the bar, Baekhyun spots Sehun and Junmyeon in a corner, their heads close together to hear each other over the music. Baekhyun hesitates over going over to say hi, when Sehun breaches their distance and kisses Junmyeon. It’s such an intimate, gentle action, the way Sehun tips Junmyeon’s chin up, Junmyeon’s arms locked securely around Sehun’s small waist. The kiss is slow, almost chaste at first, gaining traction quickly enough. Inexplicably, Baekhyun’s engrossed by the scene, gripped by an odd pang that takes root in the center of his chest. A stranger bumps into him and Baekhyun recovers himself, a feeling of intruding on an intimate moment invading him and causing him to hurry on his way back to the group.

It’s later, when the group has decided to pause their dancing to have some drinks, that Sehun and Junmyeon appear at their table led by Irene, whose glow-in-the-dark hoop earrings jiggle with her enthusiasm.

“Hey, look who I found at the bar!” she exclaims, returning to her place next to Seulgi. She presses close to Irene to make space for the newcomers.

Sehun smiles at Baekhyun as he takes the seat across the table. Baekhyun, tipsy and woozy, tosses him a sloppy peace sign with a goofy grin. At some point, Seulgi manages to get Jongdae to dance with her and Irene is engaged in an animated conversation with Junmyeon. Sehun is at the side, seemingly bored, or so it seems to Baekhyun, whose sight or judgement are not the best at this point of the evening.

Sehun slides out of his seat and crosses over to sit next to Baekhyun. Baekhyun can’t be sure if Junmyeon notices, but he thinks he sees the man glancing over at his boyfriend and returning to his conversation without a comment.

“Hey,” Sehun says, in that low, gentle tone of his. “How’s it going?”

It’s been two weeks since he’s last seen Sehun at the dance class. In the dark, Baekhyun can’t tell if Sehun’s cheeks are as bright and rosy as they’d been that day, and he’s nearly tempted to ask, but he manages to blurt out a semi coherent response instead.

“Hey,” Baekhyun slurs back. “It’s going great.”

Baekhyun giggles, feeling somewhat hot with Sehun’s proximity. So warm and solid and comfortable. Their arms are pressed together and Baekhyun is more aware of the soft firmness of his upper arm than the entire space he is in.

“What’ve you been up to?” Sehun asks. Baekhyun can make out the eyeliner under his eyes, smudged out over the corners. It gives him a gritty and sensual edge that is a stark contrast to the way his lips pucker when he speaks. “Don’t tell Chanyeol this, but I wish he would swap the ballet classes with you again.”

Baekhyun’s laugh is too strident, too loud, even within the fire gun noise of the club. Despite his clear inebriation, the pause in the conversation across the table doesn’t escape him. “I could hide his keys. Just tell me when.”

“How did you learn to play the piano like that?”

“Changmyung taught me in middle school,” Baekhyun replies. “A friend of my brother’s.” For a brief second, he wonders if his brother and Changmyung are still speaking. He guesses they aren’t. He and his brother barely speak nowadays without it ending in an argument. He takes a long draught of his drink to chase away this sudden moment of clarity.

“So you’ve been playing for a long time,” Sehun says. “Why didn’t you major in music like Chanyeol?”

“Nah, it’s just a hobby,” Baekhyun laughs quietly. He can’t imagine what it would’ve been like to tell his parents he’d be majoring in music, especially after how badly they’d taken his refusal to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a surgeon. At least Baekbeom had turned out right. “When are you giving me the city tour you promised me?”

“Whenever you want,” Sehun replies casually. Baekhyun can feel his breath ghosting over his cheek. “I’ll give you a ring.”

“I’ll be waiting by the phone,” Baekhyun teases, lowering his voice a pitch. Jongdae is now standing by Sehun’s side, seemingly out of thin air, and Baekhyun focuses enough to notice his eyes are flitting from one to the other. “Is it time to go?”

“Yeah, gotta get up early tomorrow, remember?”

Ten minutes later, as they meander down the road failing to hail a cab, Jongdae has an arm around Baekhyun’s waist, his own arm hanging loosely around Jongdae’s neck.

“You were flirting with Sehun down there,” Jongdae mentions, “right in front of Junmyeon. His boyfriend.”

There’s an edge of accusation to Jongdae’s tone that hurls Baekhyun straight into another bout of sobriety. “I wasn’t flirting. We were just catching up…”

“It kinda looked like it,” Jongdae refutes, giving him a sidelong glance, “and he was flirting with you, too. I mean, I know that’s something natural for you, but for other people, it looks…”

“You’re making me sound like a slut,” Baekhyun infers. Jongdae’s smile has a funny curve to it. “Alright, I am a slut.”

“We all know you’re a maneater.” Jongdae clasps Baekhyun’s waist to drop a kiss on his temple. “And I say that in the most loving way.”

“I think you’re reading too much into it.”

Most of it, he suspects, comes out in a slurred garble. Jongdae’s thin lips compress into an irritated line. The tension dissipates when Baekhyun trips over a crack in the pavement and Jongdae squeaks, gripping tightly onto Baekhyun to avoid a possible fall that would also drag him down. Baekhyun guffaws, unhinged, loud in the quiet of the early morning, earning stares from a group of girls walking by.

“Now, you need to walk straight enough to get us a taxi,” Jongdae says, “or we’re going to be walking out here all night.”

The following Saturday morning, Baekhyun is sorting through his mail when, among bills and advertisements, he stumbles upon a letter from his mother. 

It’s been nearly three weeks since Baekbeom’s call and he has yet to call his mother. Guilt slithers up his throat like bile at the thought of her attempts to communicate with him, despite his own obvious attempts to keep any contact to a minimum.

He doesn’t hate his mother. But whenever he does muster the courage to call home, a note of disappointment unavoidably sneaks into her voice, like a crack in a mirror, when she inevitably mentions the issue of his uncertain future. It’s so effective that, hours after he’s hung up, it keeps ringing nonstop in his head. And there’s always the dreaded answers to the dreaded questions: how is dad? He’s fine, the perpetual reply. He’s in the garden. Locked up in his office. Always too busy to talk.

Baekhyun knows they’ve given up on him already. Baekbeom plays as the buffer, ever grudging and often vicious, a couple of times a year, which are also the only times he gets to talk to him.

The letter is short, filled with details about her job at the school she owns, his father’s studio renovation and Baekbeom’s recent promotion. Short and impersonal. A far cry from the adoration and affection she had for him growing up. Sometimes Baekhyun forgets to stop himself from wondering how different his life would be now if he’d done the things his parents wanted for him…

The phone rings in the kitchen. Baekhyun leaves the letter over the coffee table and gets off the couch to answer.

“Hello?”

“Baekhyun, hi.”

It’s Sehun’s voice. Baekhyun’s stomach flips.

“Hey,” he says, tangling the chord in his fingers. “This is so unexpected.”

“Didn’t I say I’d give you a ring?” Sehun catches, taunting. “Are you free today?”

“Yeah.” Chanyeol said he’d come over later, and even though sex sounds tempting, spending the day with Sehun is both intriguing and exciting. Baekhyun loves doing new things. “What time is good for you?”

The promenade outside the Palace pier is packed with people on a Sunday afternoon, despite the scorching sun above that has made the back of Baekhyun’s neck hot as the sand on the beach.

It’s easy to find Sehun among the tourists and strolling families: he and Jongin are dancing to a MC Hammer song, surrounded by a group of onlookers whooping and cheering. Jongin has a smirk on, attractive and devastating, that he directs on occasion to the crowd with the intent to disarm. It’s a contrast to Sehun’s cool facade, reflected in the sharpness and fluidity of his movements. His long legs follow the music freely but concisely, his tongue peeking out between his lips in concentration. And something about it all keeps Baekhyun absorbed in his dancing.

When the performance is over, the group around them clap and hoot, Baekhyun joining along. Jongin smiles shyly, shifting back into his puppy self like the switch of a light, and Sehun allows a tiny smile that he hides by ducking his head. As if remembering something suddenly, he lifts his gaze and searches the crowd, his eyes sparkling when he finally spots Baekhyun. Saying something to Jongin, who looks over at Baekhyun and waves with a smile, Sehun saunters over to Baekhyun, eyes downcast. Somehow, everything Sehun does is endearing, even this obvious attempt to appear casual.

“Hey,” Sehun says softly, “you came.”

“I came,” Baekhyun replies with a grin. “I really liked your dancing over there. I see you have some fans.”

A group of girls are ogling Sehun, their giggling growing louder when Sehun glances over at them. Baekhyun snickers, then coos when Sehun ducks his face again, a blush tinting his pale cheeks.

The boy’s so terribly cute.

“Not really,” Sehun says sheepishly. “They’re here for Jongin.”

“They’re looking over at you, though.”

“Shut up,” Sehun laughs, pushing at Baekhyun weakly. Baekhyun cackles, attracting the attention of people nearby. “I didn’t ask you to come over to be like this…”

“Okay, what did you want me to come over for then?” The question comes off more naturally than expected, considering it has been tumbling in his head since the call.

The quirk in Sehun’s tiny mouth is both intriguing and taunting. “You still don’t remember?”

“What?”

Sehun chuckles, ducking his chin for a moment. When he meets Baekhyun’s gaze again, his eyes are crescent-shaped. “I’ll tell you later then if you don’t remember.”

“Remember what?” Baekhyun asks, tickled. He doesn’t remember them ever meeting before; he would surely remember someone as stunning as Sehun. “Can you give me a hint at least?”

Sehun’s lips drag down exaggeratedly, two fingers poised under his chin. It’s such a comical expression, Baekhyun chuckles. “Strawberry ice cream.”

“Is that all?” Baekhyun blinks. “That’s my favorite flavor of ice cream.”

“Yes, that’s all.” Sehun sidesteps Baekhyun. “Wanna take a walk? I don’t have class today and I don’t want to go home just yet.”

“Alright,” Baekhyun says, falling into step with Sehun easily. He slips his hands into his pockets and flashes the other a smile. “I’m free today anyway.”

“You go to college?”

“No,” Baekhyun says. “College isn’t for me.”

“Really?” Sehun scrutinizes his face with a mysterious smile. Baekhyun likes that he can’t read it. “I guess staying still and quiet isn’t your thing?”

“Guess it isn’t,” Baekhyun laughs, not taking offense. It’s hard to tell when Sehun is joking or not, but Baekhyun senses Sehun doesn’t spare his insults freely. “And you and dancing?”

“What about me and dancing?”

“Does it suit you?”

“You tell me yourself,” Sehun catches.

“I think your dancing was amazing,” Baekhyun admits, sincerely. Sehun turns his head away, so only his profile is visible, outlined by sunshine. “You look like you really enjoy moving to the music.”

“You haven’t really seen me dance yet.” By the color on Sehun’s cheeks, Baekhyun thinks he’s made him blush. Or it could be the heat—either way, it pleases him.

Baekhyun’s about to contradict him, remind him of what he saw at the pier earlier, but he figures Sehun means his actual dancing, the one that makes him proud.

“So, when are you showing me it?”

Sehun turns his head fully to him. Surprise colors his expression, from the round shape of his pink mouth to the height of his thin eyebrows. Then he recovers, quick as it had come, and he faces the front again, though Baekhyun can spot the slight upward curl of his lips.

“Whenever you want,” Sehun says. “You have a lot of free time?”

“Lots and lots.” Baekhyun musses up his hair. “I’m looking for a job right now, but I’ve had no luck so far. It’s given me plenty of time to do other things, though. Like playing with my band.”

“Why’s the name of your band Rabid Pussy?”

“We were drunk when we decided on it.” Baekhyun gnaws on his thumbnail. “The inside joke is that we’re scared of pussy—except Seulgi, of course.”

Sehun’s shoulders quake with a chuckle. Every time he laughs, like clockwork, a hand flies to cover his mouth.

“What do you play?” Sehun puts his hands in his pockets. His gait is relaxed. Confident. “Chanyeol said it was a mix of A-ha and Queen’s disco phase—whatever that means. But I think he wants to be Morrissey or Freddie Mercury.”

Baekhyun quips, “Well, can you _imagine_ Chanyeol in a spandex suit?”

“I hate you for putting that image in my head.” Sehun snickers, looking devilish. “Anyways, what else do you like doing?”

“Your friend Chanyeol.”

Sehun makes a disgusted face that makes Baekhyun laugh out loud. A couple passing by glance at them curiously.

“You’re gross.” Sehun’s laughter is croaky. “I kind of regret inviting you out.”

_Inviting me out_ , Baekhyun muses, _makes it sound like a date_. Baekhyun bites his lip, keeping an insinuating smile at bay. Better not to scare poor Sehunnie away. The kid was probably just curious about Baekhyun. And there still that thing Sehun said…

Sehun cons Baekhyun into eating pizza at a pizzeria near the promenade, wedged between a Scooba diving school and a small thrift store. It’s an understated place, almost easy to miss, with a green sign over the door with the words _Joe’s Pizzas_ in white letters over peeling paint on the glass door. Inside there are quite a few number of patrons—families with rowdy kids, surfers with various degrees of sunburn, and some couples sharing a plate of pizza.

Sehun greets the man at the counter, a middle-aged man with striking blue eyes and sparse light hair. Baekhyun smiles at him, and the man waves at both as they head to a table in a corner. The mantel over the table is a red and white gingham, which is surprisingly clean. Baekhyun’s approval for any place depends entirely on how clean it is, and secondly, the quality of the food. And he’s very impressed with this little joint.

“I like this place,” Baekhyun declares. “It feels cozy.”

“I’ve been coming here since forever,” Sehun tells him. “They have the best pizza in Brighton.”

A music runs through Sehun’s tone, the melody of a fond memory. He’s inclined over the table on his elbows, his right hand over his forearm. He looks relaxed, comfortable. At home.

“Since you were a kid?”

A gentle bob of his head. “Since we moved to Brighton,” he says, tucking his chin in his palm. “We came here like once a week whenever dad was in town. And when my parents couldn’t take me, I’d come here with my brother.”

An older brother. Baekhyun takes in all the information. The way Sehun’s eyes seemed cheerful, the way his voice wrapped around the words, sweet and cloying. It reminds Baekhyun of Baekbeom. Baekbeom used to take him to a little joint like this, one to eat fish and chips after baseball practice in elementary school, and the tradition continued into high school, even after Baekhyun had long given up on sports.

“Don’t you dancers have special diets and stuff?”

A guy Jongdae dated last summer was a dancer at a studio and he didn’t eat more than salads and or anything that contained a lot of carbs. Jongdae’s main reason to break up with him was how bad he felt when he ate burgers while the poor guy only wanted to eat lettuce.

“I can cheat today,” Sehun says cheekily. Baekhyun laughs delightedly. “My diet isn’t too strict, but I do have to keep up my weight… It’s like maintenance.”

“You can skip maintenance today,” Baekhyun says. “I had a bike for ten years that ran perfectly and barely even did maintenance on it. Well, until it broke down, but I don’t know if it was my fault, really.”

Sehun laughs, head tipped back. Baekhyun watches as his face is swathed in sunlight, the beautiful way it softens his chiseled features. When he looks at Baekhyun again, he has a smile on his face, barely open, slightly crooked, like Baekhyun is silly—and Baekhyun is endeared with it.

The food is amazing. Sehun was right, it’s the best pizza in Brighton. Probably all of Britain. Half an hour later, Baekhyun leans back in his seat, stomach about to explode, his plate empty except for some crumbs.

“You were right,” Baekhyun says, patting his stomach, “that was the best pizza I’ve ever had.”

“Told you so,” Sehun says, smiling. He has a shine on his eyes, satisfied and, somewhat, on Baekhyun’s behalf, bemused. There is also a glow to his cheeks, perhaps because of the afternoon heat condensed in the restaurant. Baekhyun loves it.

“If I wasn’t broke, I’d be ordering another one right now.”

Sehun laughs, subdued, into his hand. “And if I wasn’t on a diet, I’d do nothing to stop you.”

“I’m going to tempt you to some ice cream,” Baekhyun says, mischievous smile at the ready. “What do you say?”

“Are you paying?”

Baekhyun barks a laugh. “Of course.”

It’s Sehun who picks the ice cream parlor. Baekhyun’s used to leading whenever he’s out with someone since he’s familiar with lots of places around Brighton. Sehun seemed like he already had a place in mind, and Baekhyun relents just because he wants to indulge Sehun. And because a pouty yet determined Sehun was way too endearing to say no to.

Sehun takes a long time deciding what he wants, his lower lip sucked into his mouth; Baekhyun gets lost watching him instead of picking his own flavor. At his turn, he just chirps, “strawberry!” because that’s his forever go-to flavor.

They walk along the promenade to end up at the pier, where fewer people litter it, now that the sun has begun to set and the blanket of night has fallen over the beach. A light breeze has risen from the waves hitting the shore. Baekhyun isn’t cold and the wood of the pier under his palm is still warm from the scorching summer sun.

Sehun eats the leftovers of his ice cream with the precision of a child. Chocolate mint, he’d picked, a choice Baekhyun had slightly judged. Sehun had just shrugged and taken a huge bite of the dessert as if in defiance.

“You know I’ve never met someone who bites ice cream.”

A drop of melted strawberry falls on his naked arm. Baekhyun wipes it with a finger. Sehun watches him do it through the corner of his eye, then focuses on his face before taking another bite of his ice cream, again with that careless defiance in his indifferent gaze. Baekhyun laughs, his shoulders shaking before taking a bite of his own ice cream. He can see the appeal.

“I just like it that way,” Sehun says quietly. “I think I’ve never thought about it before. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s not.” Baekhyun gnaws on his cone. It’s gone in two big bites. “Maybe I’ve just never quite met someone like you.”

Baekhyun is dying to take Sehun under the pier and kiss him thoroughly, touch him in all the places he likes, and maybe even blow him against a pillar with the smell of rotting seaweed and the deafening sound of the tide in the background.

But Baekhyun is being honest. Sehun isn’t like all the other guys he’s picked up before. He doesn’t want to taint him—he looks and acts so young, even if there’s only two years standing between them, that Baekhyun doesn’t want to take advantage of that innocence swirling right under the surface of his actions.

In short, Baekhyun wants to keep Sehun. Wants to keep him around long enough to know him, to like him. Different from how he keeps Chanyeol around. Or even Jongdae.

Sehun arches an eyebrow then laughs, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. It’s a silent laugh, only his shoulders trembling denoting its presence, but Baekhyun can tell the sardonic hint running through it like a music note.

“Are you trying to flirt with me?”

“Maybe,” Baekhyun replies, voice dropped low. Just enough that Sehun can tell it’s lighthearted. “What if I was?”

Sehun, on his part, seems completely unfazed. His left brow remains arched, pompous and petulant. “Isn’t it a little unfair to expect people to blow you after you buy them ice cream? I feel a little cheated.”

Baekhyun breaks into a peal of laughter. Sehun is so cheeky. “You’re such a brat. I bought you the ice cream and paid for the pizza because you said you didn’t have your wallet on you!”

That breaks right through Sehun’s superior acting. He laughs along with Baekhyun, unconsciously moving closer so their arms touch. The moment his arm grazes the skin of Sehun’s arm, warm still, peach soft, Baekhyun feels a current of electricity running through the air. Then Sehun steps back, out of touch, but not out of his personal bubble.

“Will I have to bring my wallet next time?” Baekhyun asks, blinking coquettishly. He’s smiling playfully, but he harbors hope for a yes. For confirmation of a next time.

Sehun licks his lips, then he unfolds a tiny, precious smile. “Of course,” he says easily. “I never bring my wallet with me.”

“You little brat,” Baekhyun laughs, shaking his head. “Junmyeon’s spoiled you rotten.”

At the mention of his boyfriend, Sehun’s face closes like window shutters, though his smile lingers, softer, diffused. “Junmyeon likes spoiling everyone,” he comments, offhanded. “Even better if it’s me.”

Baekhyun laughs. “Guess I can’t blame you.” Before silence can fit itself between them, Baekhyun asks, “what was that thing you were going to tell me earlier?”

“Oh, right,” Sehun says, momentarily surprised. That sharp, amused look is back. “You haven’t figured it out yet?”

“No,” Baekhyun says, both curious and tickled. “What?”

Sehun leans sideways against the pier, staring intently at Baekhyun. Baekhyun tilts his head, matching stare for stare, but Sehun is giving him nothing. So he directs his gaze elsewhere, determined to solve Sehun’s puzzle. The ice cream cone Sehun had discarded earlier is already a prey for ants, the leftover melted chocolate spread over the boards.

That’s when it comes to his mind a hazy memory of a summer long ago, back in London, at a carnival when Baekhyun was in the third grade. Baekbeom had run into a classmate, who was also accompanied by his little brother, a boy shorter than Baekhyun, and a lot skinnier. Baekhyun had been eating a strawberry ice cream, and the boy’s gaze, intent and timid at once, had screwed itself onto it.

“Do you want some?” Baekhyun had asked. At the offer, the boy had snapped his dark eyes at Baekhyun, falling open at the same time as his mouth did. Baekhyun had laughed openly, and the boy had smiled a little. “Take it.”

The boy had hesitated for a moment before taking the ice cream. “Thank you,” he’d said shyly. “I like ice cream.”

“It was you!” Baekhyun hollers in the present. “You were that kid at the carnival with Baekbeom’s friend!”

It’s been fourteen years since then. Baekhyun was eight around that time, so Sehun must’ve been six. He smiles tenderly at Sehun, the thrill of surprise still ringing through him. Sehun has ducked his head, hiding away a bashful smile.

“Why didn’t you tell me we’d met all those years ago?” Baekhyun asks. “And how do you even remember? You were so small back then!”

“I have a good memory,” Sehun says with a minimal shrug. “And you sort of made an impression… You were wearing these Minnie Mouse ears and there were hearts painted over your cheeks.”

“Woah, you really do have a good memory.” Baekhyun remembers a picture of himself wearing that outfit—he’d begged Baekbeom to buy him the Minnie Mouse ears instead of Mickey’s, as his brother and the vendor suggested, and he’d asked the lady at the painting stall to draw him pretty hearts with lots of glitter. In hindsight, it was perfect foreshadowing of what would be his older years. Perhaps even Baekbeom sees it that way now. “Why didn’t we meet again after that?”

“We moved a lot because of my dad’s job,” Sehun answers. “We moved to Paris at the end of that summer and then we moved to Switzerland. Then Toronto, Texas, Canada again. I even lived in South Korea for a bit, when my grandma got sick. I came back to Britain in high school when my dad died.”

The last part is a bit of a shock. Especially since Sehun spares no emotion other than affability. “Oh, sorry—”

“It’s okay, it’s been a while.” Sehun flicks his bangs aside. “My mom stayed here with her new husband until I graduated but I was too stubborn to move again. So I stayed back.”

Sehun’s all practiced nonchalance and evasive looks. It’s evident he doesn’t like to dive deeper into that subject. So Baekhyun takes the bait and pretends not to notice.

“You’ve lived in lots of places,” he prompts. Sehun’s chuckle is bashful. “Bet you know a lot of languages, huh?”

“I know some,” Sehun answers demurely. Though Baekhyun can see the pride sitting high on his cheekbones.

Baekhyun grins, poking at his arm with a single digit. “C’mon, say something in French!”

Sehun purses his mouth, chin wrinkled in though. “ _Vous êtes ennuyeux_.”

“Why do I have the feeling that’s not a nice word?” Baekhyun squints his eyes at Sehun, who breaks into a hearty laugh. “Did you just insult me in French?!”

“I’m sorry,” Sehun says, holding onto his abdomen. A part of Baekhyun doesn’t quite mind if he gets to hear Sehun laughing like that again. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, just something,” Baekhyun says. “I’ve always liked the sound of French, but I’ve never put my mind to learn it. Learning languages is a bit hard.”

“You have to sit still to learn,” Sehun remarks. Baekhyun slaps his arm for his trouble, which has Sehun falling into another round of laughter. “What?! You look like you have a lot of energy, don’t you?”

“Well, I do,” Baekhyun acquiesces. “But I’ll learn French just so I can insult you back someday.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Sehun repeats in a chuckle, though it’s genuine. Baekhyun hadn’t been offended the first time, and he smiles fully to reassure the younger.

“Tell me something in Korean,” Baekhyun asks. “My parents spoke Korean a lot around me and Baekbeom, but it never stuck. It’s too harsh, I think.”

Sehun says a few words in that clipped tone that Baekhyun catches instantly. He smirks lopsidedly.

“So am I good company, huh?” He laughs at Sehun’s surprise. “You just said you’ve had a good time with me, didn’t you?!”

“You understood that?” Sehun stammers. “You said…”

“I lied.” Baekhyun shrugs, a lot like the shrug Sehun gave earlier. “I know a few words.”

Sehun smiles with resignation. With his head lowered, he steps closer to Baekhyun, who watches his every move like a ballerina on stage. When he finally looks up, Sehun’s gaze has changed, now riveted and dark. “Here’s something you won’t know,” he says lowly, “ _vous êtes assez mignon_.”

Baekhyun is caught off guard by the velvety cadence of Sehun’s tone that he doesn’t quite register the words more so than the easiness that they roll off his tongue, like waves over the sand.

“Vous ate… what?” Baekhyun blinks through the haze. “What does that mean?”

Sehun laughs, his quiet, subtle laugh again. “Figure it out yourself.”

“Are you insulting me again?” Baekhyun pouts, arms crossed. “You should respect your elders.”

“I didn’t insult you,” Sehun rushes to clarify, defensive. Baekhyun laughs.

“Then what did you say?”

“Hey, Sehun!”

Jongin walks over to them with Krystal, both looking straight out of a Calvin Klein ad. Baekhyun believes they will be discovered by some modelling agency any day now.

“We were going to a party,” Jongin tells them. “Wanna go? I think Junmyeon’s going.”

Sehun says nothing to that. He turns to Baekhyun as if looking for his approval. Baekhyun smiles and shrugs. “Sure,” he says. “I’m in.”

Baekhyun spends most of the evening with Sehun by his side. Aside from Jongin and Krystal, who are in their own little world, there is not a single person he’s familiar with there and he’s not in the mood to mingle.

They dance for hours—if dancing can be translated into a showdown of terrible dance moves that they both know and end up laughing at so hard they accidentally knock into other couples. It’s nearly two in the morning when they get tired and decide to head outside for some fresh air.

Baekhyun’s had two beers, not nearly enough to get him tipsy, but he feels lightheaded; maybe because of how much he’s spent laughing in the past hours, or because of all the weed smoke he’s inhaled inside the house.

“What did you say earlier?” Baekhyun queries. “The thing in French?”

“I told you I’m not going to tell you,” Sehun says, “You have to figure it out yourself.”

Baekhyun juts out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. Sehun’s eyes are two amused moons, obviously undeterred at his cheap attempt at breaking his conviction.

“It’s fine, I’ll ask Krystal,” Baekhyun says. “She went to a boarding school in Paris.”

“Really? At an all-girls school?” Sehun wonders, eyes widened. “And she’s straight?”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Baekhyun laughs quietly. “Jongin isn’t quite straight either, is he…”

A beat passes in silence with the music blaring from the party in the background. Some couples have wandered outside to make out or talk, and a few others are heading to the next party. The loud voices of the group walking by carry in the distance, and when Baekhyun looks up, he notices Sehun is staring down at him.

It’s still a little unsettling that Sehun is nearly a head a taller, but Baekhyun is used to dealing with Chanyeol. As opposed to Chanyeol, though, who constantly bends over for smaller people, Sehun bends for no one. Also, Chanyeol is ever an open book, his emotions plainly written all over, while Sehun’s unreadable, impossible to guess what goes on in his head with that half smirk of his.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Baekhyun asks. A nervous note colors his voice, he knows, and he tries to mask it by clearing his throat.

“I’m just thinking that it’s amazing that we met again here,” Sehun confesses, “after all these years.”

“It is amazing to know me,” Baekhyun quips, laughing when Sehun smacks his arm lightly. “Britain is just too small.”

“How is your brother doing?”

“Fine, I guess.” Baekhyun looks across the street. All the windows are dark, the curtains drawn. “He’s in London so we don’t go to baseball games anymore… Or he does, maybe. I don’t know.”

Sehun remains silent, and when Baekhyun looks to make sure, Sehun directs his attention to the pavement. Deep inside Baekhyun is thankful Sehun doesn’t prod; he must’ve read the vagueness in his tone.

“Do you smoke?” Sehun asks.

“Yeah,” Baekhyun says. “Why?”

Sehun pulls a blunt out of his pocket and shows it to Baekhyun with a tiny proud grin. Baekhyun laughs loudly, hitting Sehun’s shoulder with the back of his hand.

“Where did you get that?” he asks, taking it. “Did you steal it?”

“People shouldn’t leave their stuff lying around,” Sehun replies with a shrug. “So, you wanna smoke?”

Sehun takes a lighter out of his back pocket, grabs the blunt from Baekhyun and positions it in his lips to light it. Baekhyun didn’t even know Sehun smokes. Baekhyun’s reminded Sehun is an adult, not legal enough to drink yet, but he’s old enough to do other illegal things. Like dating men.

Baekhyun watches Sehun pucker his lips around the blunt to take a drag of it, the smoke leaving his lips in a thick silver cloud. Sehun coughs as he passes it over to Baekhyun, knocking his chest with his fist. Baekhyun laughs good-naturedly, endeared at the way Sehun looks bashful and slightly annoyed at himself.

“Is it too strong?”

“A little,” Sehun replies, coarse. “Who knows what it is laced with…”

“Ah-ha.” Baekhyun takes a drag, inhales the smoke, and expels it. “That’s why you shouldn’t be stealing other people’s drugs.”

“Then we shouldn’t be smoking them,” Sehun bounces back. “At least we’ll be fucked up together.”

“This is quite mild, though,” Baekhyun says. “I mostly get sleepy when I smoke weed…”

“Really?” Sehun receives the blunt from Baekhyun. “Irene says I get very giggly and chatty.”

“That’s cute,” Baekhyun says without thinking. Sehun _is_ cute. With his cute mannerisms, his lazy way of standing, his crescent eyes, crooked teeth. And right now his hair is a little disheveled, falling over his forehead while his eyes begin to get puffy, lips naturally jutted in a pout. Cute, cute, cute.

“I’m not cute,” Sehun counters, taking a long drag. This time he manages to suppress a cough, his body jolting forward. “Fuck, I feel so high already.”

Baekhyun was already lightheaded when they came out, and he can currently feel the giddiness pushing through, the lax mellowness settling into his bones like a warm blanket. From afar, _Holiday_ by Madonna thrums through the house.

“Are you going back to your flat?” Baekhyun realizes Sehun hasn’t mentioned Junmyeon since the pier, and oddly, it doesn’t feel quite right for him to refer to him either.

“Yeah.” Sehun flinches. “I don’t really like…”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Sehun says. “It’s silly.”

Baekhyun doesn’t press like he normally would if he were with one of his friends. He isn’t quite sure if he and Sehun are friends; all that links them is a moment from long ago, and aside from that, they are strangers with few things in common. Nevertheless, Sehun is the most interesting stranger he’s met in a long time, and he’d love to keep knowing more.

It’s another half an hour of fooling around against the wall when Sehun begins to laugh about everything and anything. Gradually, Baekhyun begins to feel sleepy, so much so he has to lean against Sehun when they amble down the street to grab a taxi home.

During the ride, Baekhyun forgets to give the driver his address in his drowsy state, and it’s not until they stop outside Sehun’s flat building that he remembers.

“Do you want to come up?” Sehun suggests, when Baekhyun leans forward to speak to the driver. “It’s too early to go to bed yet.”

Baekhyun is sure he’ll fall sleep in the cab before the effect of the weed fades out. Besides, Sehun’s stoned voice has an added gravel in it that is entirely appealing; Baekhyun is half enticed by it and the prospect of a soft surface to sleep on.

After paying the driver, they walk into the building together, hip to hip, Sehun’s arm over Baekhyun’s shoulder, Baekhyun’s hand over Sehun’s waist. Sehun lives in a building with a guard at the desk, who greets him with a friendly nod as they pass by laughing their heads off about nothing in particular.

Sehun pushes his weight into the door to open it, probably out of drug-induced laziness than an actual requirement. They push out of their shoes in tandem. Baekhyun stands in the foyer as Sehun walks into the flat. The place isn’t quite as small as Baekhyun’s flat, though the kitchen is the same measurement as the living room, and the washing machine is tucked at the end of a cabinet. Sehun keeps the space clean, perhaps not as neatly as Baekhyun, but this may be because he seems to own more stuff.

There’s a stereo in the living room, cassettes scattered on top of it, or in impressive piles in the vicinity. Baekhyun’s nearly tempted to check them out, but he stays by the kitchen. He prefers vinyls himself, a fact Chanyeol teases him endlessly about over _how pretentious it is,_ and Baekhyun never misses the chance to flip him the bird whenever he brings it up.

“I don’t know why I was expecting a dance studio.” Baekhyun isn’t sure of what he’s saying, the words tumble out on their own. “Like the academy you go to, or something.”

“It’s just this,” Sehun says, shrugging. “It’s not that small, I guess.”

“You should see my place,” Baekhyun tells him. “It’s like the size of your living room.”

Sehun laughs, scratching his left arm. “A tiny home for a tiny person…”

“Hey, I’m not tiny!” Baekhyun throws a feeble punch to Sehun’s side. Sehun manages to dodge his next hit. “You’re just too big.”

“Do you want something to eat?” Sehun only bothered to switch on the kitchen light. The darkness makes Baekhyun even sleepier and Sehun’s voice sounds like it comes through a long tunnel.

“I just feel like lying down and going right to sleep,” Baekhyun says. “Maybe I should’ve gone home after all.”

“You can sleep here,” Sehun offers. “I actually… I wouldn’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” Baekhyun’s knees are starting to wobble. Tiredness and intoxication are taking in and he has to labor to keep his vision from swimming. “I can sleep in the couch.”

“No, come here,” Sehun says, voice soft as cotton. He grips Baekhyun’s wrist lightly, his touch warm and damp over Baekhyun’s cool skin. It serves like an anchor among the haziness. “Sleep with me.”

Sehun’s whisper travels through him like fish through a current, distant and elusive, yet its cadence slides down Baekhyun’s spine in a steady drip. He laughs, unconsciously, heat gathering in his ears. “I don’t sleep with people on the first date,” he jests. “But maybe if you made breakfast…”

“Are you saying you’d sleep with me if I made breakfast?”

“I’m saying I’d consider it.”

Sehun laughs, head hanging and eyes closed. Baekhyun grins wide like a damn fool. “Let’s just go to sleep.”

A hypnotized Baekhyun follows Sehun to his bedroom, leaving the door ajar. At the front of the bed, Sehun lets go of Baekhyun to take off his shirt and pants, and Baekhyun tries to focus on the outline of his body in the darkness.

“Do you usually undress yourself in front of strangers?” Baekhyun asks, voice caught in his throat. Sehun snorts, and Baekhyun wishes desperately he could see whether there is that pretty flush on Sehun’s cheeks right now.

“That’s not the kind of dancing I do.” Sehun pushes Baekhyun to the bed. The back of his knees hit the mattress and Baekhyun falls sideways over it, a boisterous laugh of surprise escaping from deep within his chest. “Though I wouldn’t put it past me if I was in the right mood…”

Within the mist of his thoughts, Baekhyun wonders if this is the alcohol and weed doing the talking for Sehun. Either way, he makes sure to commit this to memory, the lilt in Sehun’s voice, the sound of his breathing, the heat emanating from his body, even if he already can feel his consciousness slipping away from him.

“Are you going to sleep in your jeans?” Sehun queries, moving around his room. Now that he’s lying down, Baekhyun is too lazy to move his head enough to find him. “I read somewhere it’s bad for blood circulation…”

Baekhyun grunts, then, gingerly, wiggles out of his jeans and tosses them aside. The clink of his belt hitting the floor is loud. A dip in the mattress and Sehun is lying down on his side. A half sleepy Baekhyun snuggles closer, so his leg fits within Sehun’s, and his folded arm touches his chest. Sehun’s eyes are impossibly bright; Baekhyun tries to focus solely on his gaze but staring long enough ends up making him dizzy.

“Would you teach me how to dance?” Baekhyun asks, right before he falls asleep. “French, too.”

A hum is all he gets in response. Sehun does shuffle closer, throwing an arm over Baekhyun, and Baekhyun sneaks his head into the crook of his neck. Sehun smells like sweat and smoke and a faint whiz of cologne.

“Ballerina, you must’ve seen her dancing in the sand,” Baekhyun sings offbeat. “Always with me, tiny dancer in my hand…”

Baekhyun’s lips drag over Sehun’s neck when he speaks, and Sehun titters, trembles with it. Baekhyun has half a mind to kiss him there. At last, he slides his lips with slightly more conviction, featherlight, so it can be passed over as anything else. Sehun does not react, his body gone lax, and Baekhyun falls asleep to the steadfast rhythm of his breathing.

In the second week of July, luck finally seems to be in Baekhyun’s favor: he gets a job at a record store a short bus ride from his place.

The manager, a guy named Heechul, had taken a look at him and asked him if he was old enough to work. Baekhyun had rolled his eyes.

“Okay, top three artists. Go.”

“Uh… Whitney Houston, Elton John and Michael Jackson.”

“Alright, not bad,” Heechul says. “Top three songs.”

“ _I Wanna Dance with Somebody, Beat It_.” Baekhyun racks his brain for another song. It’s hard to think under the pressure of possible employment. “ _Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer_.”

“That’s a good one,” Heechul says with a grin. “Vinyl or cassette?”

“Easy.” Baekhyun smirks. “Vinyls. Sound quality is way better.”

“Okay, you’re hired.” Heechul slaps the counter. “You start on Monday. Be here at noon.”

“That’s it?” Baekhyun blinks with surprise. “You don’t have to read my letter of recommendations?”

“Nah, just show up on time and bring a book or something,” Heechul says, already losing interest. “It can get pretty boring here in the afternoons.”

“And he just hired you on the spot?”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun chuckles. “Must’ve been my natural charm.”

Sehun rolls his eyes, a sardonic smile on his lips, shiny with grease. Melted cheese sticks to his chin and Baekhyun laughs as he wipes it off with his thumb. Sehun lets him, even inclines his head for Baekhyun.

“Of course, you’re all charm,” Sehun says flatly. “Who wouldn’t resist.”

Said in that flat tone of his, Baekhyun doesn’t know whether to be flattered or offended. He pouts, picking at the pepperoni on his pizza with his fingernails. “At least now I’ll have more money to feed you…”

This is the second time they’ve met up to eat. Sehun had called after breakfast and invited Baekhyun down to the pier for lunch, which undoubtedly meant their favorite pizza place.

“I can feed myself,” Sehun argues, gesturing petulantly with a hand. “And anyways, we’ll only be able to come here on your off days, whenever that will be.”

Baekhyun baffles a little at Sehun’s easiness to be so casual about these displays of affection and his total opposite way of acting indifferent towards Baekhyun. It’s baffling yet endearing, because all of it it’s part of Sehun’s childlike charm.

“I may be too tired to go out,” Baekhyun jests, “since I’ll be working again, ya know. Old bones, and all.”

Sehun laughs soundlessly. “Well, I have your phone now so I’ll be giving you a call when I’m free.”

“I’ll be waiting by the phone,” Baekhyun says playfully. “Just don’t call at night.”

“Why?” Sehun queries with mild interest. “Are you busy with something? Or should I say,” Sehun’s mouth becomes skewed, “someone?”

Baekhyun is about to mention Chanyeol, but they haven’t really talked about meeting up this week. Baekhyun just gives Sehun a wink, who in turn laughs at his shamelessness.

They leave early since Sehun has to head to his classes. Out in the promenade, Sehun turns to Baekhyun with a seriousness that it’s shy of hesitance.

“What’s up?”

“Do you want to come to see me dance sometime?” Sehun mumbles. This display of shyness is unbearably adorable. Baekhyun grins widely. Who wouldn’t resist any type of offer from this boy. “I mean, ballet classes.”

“I’d love to, Sehunnie!” Baekhyun responds. “Just let me know the time and place.”

Sehun smiles, that tiny, secretive smile that looks like a hidden treasure. Baekhyun pockets it for later inspection.

“Alright,” Sehun says. “See you.”

“Where were you today?” Jongdae asks that night over drinks at Rainbow. “I called your flat like three times and nobody answered.”

“I had lunch with Sehun.” Baekhyun sips his mojito. There’s a little too much rum in it. He groans as it slithers down his throat. “Like a congratulatory lunch because I got the job.”

“Since when are you two so buddy-buddy?”

“We’ve hung out like three times,” Baekhyun says, waving a dismissive hand. “I don’t even know if we’re friends, honestly.”

“I’ve known you for so long,” Jongdae says, “and I’ve never seen you spend that much time with someone you just met.”

“I spend a lot of time with you, don’t I?” Baekhyun bats his lashes at Jongdae. His friend shoots him a weary look. “Don’t be jealous, Dae. I won’t ever replace you.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about…” Jongdae mumbles into his drink. Baekhyun bites down on his tongue so as not to ask. Jongdae doesn’t look like he’d give a straight answer.

_Lay All Your Love on Me_ begins playing, and Baekhyun takes it as a chance to drag Jongdae to the dancefloor, effectively putting an end to their discussion.

It’s late in the evening when Sehun calls, a cheeky defiance of Baekhyun’s request. Baekhyun leaves a rerun of Grease and a bowl of ice cream in the living room to answer, an idea of who he is already pulling at his lips. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Sehun says in that unassuming tone of his, “what time do you get off work tomorrow?”

The following day Sehun picks him up half an hour earlier before Baekhyun is supposed to clock out of work. Sehun is a sight to behold, in tight jeans and a grey shirt, walking into the record store like a Greek demigod. Some of the girls perusing the George Michael section stop and stare at him.

Sehun walks up to the register without a clue of what he’s done to the clientele. The smile that unfolds in his lips when he sees Baekhyun is heartstopping.

“You’re early.”

“Sorry.” Sehun scratches the back of his head. “I thought we could hang out here for a bit before you had to leave…”

“Sure.” Baekhyun pulls up a stool next to him. “Sit down, if you want.”

They spend the last twenty minutes of Baekhyun’s shift playing Queen on the turntable and Baekhyun finds out Sehun is a huge Madonna and ABBA fan (as he should be). Baekhyun pinches his cheek when he catches Sehun singing to _Isla Bonita_ under his breath because he’s just so cute.

They amble down to the beach with two bags of fish and chips and two cokes, a diet one for Sehun, and sit on a spot not too close to the shoreline, where the sand isn’t damp. Sehun shows Baekhyun a snippet of the piece they’re practicing in his ballet class and Baekhyun hums for him a bit of the melody he and his band have been working on.

“It’s nice,” Sehun says, “I like it.”

“Then it’s going to be a hit,” Baekhyun jokes. Sehun’s grin is smug as he brushes his hair. The wind has ruffled it, rebellious strands flopping over his forehead. He looks gorgeous. Just like those male models on the glossy pages of _Seventeen_. “I don’t say this lightly, but I think you have decent taste in music.”

“Of course I do,” Sehun says. “I have good taste in everything.”

Sehun lies on his side and puts his head on Baekhyun’s lap. Baekhyun plays with his hair and Sehun closes his eyes against the sun.

“You cheeky brat,” Baekhyun reprimands, brushing Sehun’s hair back. If it weren’t for that telling devious smile, Baekhyun would assume he’s sleeping. “You drink diet coke, so you don’t exactly have good taste in everything.”

“I guess that’s true,” Sehun agrees, “since I also like you.”

Baekhyun laughs, pinching Sehun’s hip. Sehun wiggles in his lap, spurting that high-pitched laugh that Baekhyun loves.

“And you like George Michael,” Sehun remarks. “Don’t even know why I talk to you.”

“Hey, he’s great!” Baekhyun exclaims. Sehun’s eyes shrink with mischief, cheeks puffed out when he smiles. Baekhyun sings a bit of _Faith_ , his favorite George Michael song, and Sehun listens, pleased, then closes his eyes again.

“I really like your voice,” Sehun murmurs. “I want to hear you sing more.”

“Well, the band is pretty much over as it is,” Baekhyun says. “The only gigs we play now are at Chanyeol’s garage.”

Sehun locks eyes with him for a handful of seconds. It’s like he wants to add more, but ultimately, he closes his eyes again. “Maybe one day I’ll sneak into your rehearsals.”

“You’ll be our first groupie?” Baekhyun jests. Sehun snorts, cheeks tinted. “You can dance during our songs.”

“Not in a million years,” is Sehun’s resolute reply. Baekhyun giggles, flicks Sehun’s bangs off his forehead, and in the heat of the moment, he reaches down to peck Sehun in that spot.

Sehun blinks his eyes open, a diminutive scrunch right where Baekhyun’s lips had touched. The confusion slowly fades away when they lock eyes, the open plane of his face smooth as a stone.

“Sorry—I—”

“It’s alright.” Sehun’s eyes close again, pink lips quirked imperceptibly. “I liked it.”

An unattractive chortle erupts from Baekhyun. “You just like it when people pamper you.”

Whatever inhibitions had arisen in the kiss’ aftermath are forgotten. Sehun’s grin has a childish tinge to it, and Baekhyun snickers, grabbing Sehun’s head so he can pepper kisses all over him, purposefully slobbery just to be annoying. Sehun pushes weakly in retaliation through unsuccessful attempts to wrench himself free.

“No, stop!” Sehun shouts between peals of laughter. “I don’t want your germs!”

“This is what you get for being a brat!”

“What are you writing?” Chanyeol asks. “Is that a love song?”

Baekhyun looks up in shock, yanking his notebook out of sight. It had been a slow day at the record store and Baekhyun had started writing down ideas for a song that has danced around in his head like Sehun in the studio for days.

Chanyeol stands on the other side of the register, looking bedazzling in his styled grey hair and tight jeans, much like Sehun had looked the first time he walked down the isles a week ago.

“It’s a new song,” Baekhyun says. “I don’t know what it’s going to be yet.”

“It looks great from what I saw.” Chanyeol’s grin is encouraging. “We could work on it with the rest.”

“Maybe,” Baekhyun says, tucking the notebook back into his backpack. “Why are you here? Not that I don’t enjoy your company always, but I don’t feel like having a quickie during my break today.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, wearing a weary grin that entertains Baekhyun. “I’m just here for you, you dickhead. We are friends, aren’t we? Besides, you play the best music.”

Bronski Beat’s _Why?_ is playing at full volume through the speakers. Baekhyun takes the chance to play whatever he wants when he’s manning the shop alone. The only costumer that’s walked in in half an hour is bobbing her head to the music, so Baekhyun can’t say she’s bothered.

“Oh, by the way, did you happen to get the Joy Division album I mentioned last time?” Chanyeol’s too-wide grin makes him look a little demented. “I’m going to have you to ask you for a little discount—”

“Oh, of course.” Baekhyun slides off his stool. “You want me for my dick, my amazing voice and my employee discount—”

“Ugh, shut up, you know I love you,” Chanyeol says, smacking his butt. Baekhyun squeaks, then laughs as he rubs his butt. Chanyeol’s hand is large and heavy. Baekhyun loves it when he slaps him in bed. Chanyeol drapes himself over Baekhyun’s back. “You know I’ll make it up to you any way you want me to.”

Chanyeol nibbles on his ear as Baekhyun shuffles over to the aisle. It’s good that the store is empty, or somebody would probably file a complaint about the growing erection in Baekhyun’s pants. That quickie doesn’t sound so bad now considering there’s no one around and hasn’t been for hours all afternoon.

The bell over the door chimes. Baekhyun’s head whips around in time to see Sehun sauntering to the store. The boy stops dead when he spots them and Chanyeol makes no attempt to peel himself off Baekhyun. Sehun’s expression is unreadable at first, then it easily transforms into a friendly grin for Chanyeol, though he has yet to look at Baekhyun directly.

“I swear I won’t come in again if I know you’ve been doing nasty things in here,” Sehun jokes, sauntering up to them. Baekhyun extricates himself from Chanyeol, who ambles over Sehun to hug him.

“We were about to when you walked in,” Chanyeol taunts, patting Sehun’s shoulder. “So if you don’t mind going back where you came from…”

“Don’t listen to him.” Baekhyun elbows Chanyeol’s on the ribs, and Chanyeol huffs, scrunching his face in pain exaggeratedly, which makes Sehun chuckle. “What brings you here, Sehunnie? I thought we were meeting at the party tonight.”

“I just wanted to come see you.” Sehun’s shrug is a little too stiff to be casual. “You get off in twenty minutes, right? We can hang out the three of us…”

“Actually, I need to go,” Chanyeol announces, “I just wanted to bribe Baekhyun into using his employee discount for me. Maybe next time.”

Chanyeol winks, which earns him an eyeroll from Baekhyun. “See you tonight?”

“Sure,” Chanyeol says. “Let’s work on that song later, alright?” he tells Baekhyun. He clasps Sehun’s shoulder. “See you, Sehunnie.”

“You’re writing a song?” Sehun queries, after Chanyeol’s gone. “I didn’t know you wrote songs.”

“I don’t.” Baekhyun pretends to be preoccupied with fixing a stack of records. “It’s just gibberish I was scribbling on my notebook. You know how Chanyeol takes everything out of proportion.”

“If you say so.” Sehun stuffs his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t know you and Chanyeol still…”

“We’re not dating,” Baekhyun rushes to say, as casual as he can. “We just…”

“It’s okay, it’s none of my business,” Sehun says, diffident. “Sorry for asking.”

“It’s fine,” Baekhyun says. “Wanna get some burgers?”

Baekhyun is two drinks on his way to inebriation, and Sehun might already be there, because he’s dancing and jumping, giggling senselessly about nothing. The music is loud so they can’t really speak without having to whisper in each other’s ears, and Baekhyun keeps his hands over Sehun’s waist to stabilize him whenever he seems about to slip as _Come on Eileen_ comes on.

At some point, Chanyeol finds him, pulling at Baekhyun’s arm while he’s holding Sehun. Right, he was supposed to go home with him.

“I can’t leave Sehun like this,” Baekhyun says. “I have to take him home.”

“Alright,” Chanyeol sighs. “I’ll help you.”

“No, go be a slut.” Baekhyun slaps him in the butt. Chanyeol jumps, though there isn’t much there to slap. “Don’t go home alone because of me.”

“I am not a slut,” Chanyeol rebuts, without an ounce of conviction. They share a glance and burst out laughing in unison. “Go on now—And let me know if you need help.”

“Alright, thanks,” Baekhyun says. Chanyeol slips away with a smile. Sehun is leaning against the wall, his head tipped back and eyes closed. “Are you okay, Sehunnie?”

Sehun’s eyes open and rivet on him, sharper than his state would belie. “If you want to go with him, you shouldn’t have to stay with me.”

“You’re my friend,” Baekhyun says, determined. “So I’m staying with you.”

Sehun smiles slowly, and under the dim lighting of the club, it looks beautiful to Baekhyun. Then he laces their fingers, and Baekhyun marvels at how perfectly their hands fit together.

An hour later, they stumble out into the night, taking in deep breaths of fresh air; Baekhyun’s throat is coarse from all the shouting and smoke inhaled that night.

They stop to buy hot dogs and sit on the curb of the parking lot to eat. Sehun eats his hot dog in three bites and Baekhyun laughs at the mustard sprayed over his chin before wiping it off with a napkin. Perhaps in thanks, Sehun rests his head on his shoulder. Baekhyun whispers to him that they should head home and Sehun mumbles they could stay and sleep there.

A car is parked on the far end of the parking lot, its doors open and stereo playing Pete Shelley’s _Homosapien_. Two teenagers are dancing outside, another is standing against the car drinking.

Sehun gets to his feet, his gangly body swaying with the action, and seemingly wants to join them, and it’s all Baekhyun can do to not laugh hysterically as he convinces him to go home with him. A few blocks from the station, Sehun stops again to steal daisies from someone’s garden and fails miserably to put one in Baekhyun’s hair. Baekhyun’s torn between cooing and laughing; he grabs the flower from Sehun and puts it in his back pocket to pacify his drunken protests.

They don’t let go of each other’s hands the entire way, not even when they walk up the stairs to Baekhyun’s flat. Baekhyun doesn’t bother to turn off the lights and trips over his sneakers where he’s left them on the foyer. Sehun barely catches him, one arm folded over the wall so as to not fall himself.

“Wait, what is that?”

Sehun points in the direction of the adjacent wall. The Prince cutout is a stark outline in the relative darkness.

“You don’t know who Prince is?”

“’Course I do.” Sehun goes for a sloppy eyeroll, swaying over to the wall. “What’s he doing here?”

“I stole it from a guy’s house,” Baekhyun says. “One of Jongdae’s hookups. The arsehole stole Jongdae’s underwear while he was in the shower. It was weird as fuck. So we tracked him down when he was having a party, stole Jongdae’s underwear back and I took this little souvenir with me.”

Sehun’s body convulses with laughter, slumped against the wall. Then he shifts just the slightest to kiss Prince over his printed mouth.

Baekhyun changes into sweatpants. Sehun gets rid of his jeans and discovers, with no small degree of hilarity, that Baekhyun’s clothes fit like shorts on him. It takes Baekhyun a little longer to get Sehun to bed; he gets tangled in the bead curtain separating his room from the rest of the flat and spins around it until Baekhyun frees him.

September is just around the corner. A chilly breeze pushes into the room from the window Baekhyun had cracked open earlier. The temperature is perfect; Sehun’s warmth, the single cover, and the slight cold on their bodies.

Sehun’s breathing is even, but Baekhyun knows he isn’t asleep yet.

“In a million years, the sun will expand and burn the earth to a crisp,” Sehun slurs out. “The earth will burn into coal.”

“Woah,” Baekhyun whispers in a heady exhale, “where did you read that?”

“In some magazine.” Sehun sniffles. “The sun is bad.”

“Bad sun,” Baekhyun laughs. “I guess that’s a good excuse to do whatever the hell we want as long as we’re here because it won’t matter in a million years when the sun eats the earth.”

“We will be dead,” Sehun contemplates calmly. “And you already do whatever you want anyway…”

“I used to be good when I was a kid,” Baekhyun says with a small chuckle. “It’s hard to believe, I know, but I used to behave so well, my mom would brag about me to everyone she knew.”

“It is hard to believe.” Sehun laughs under his breath. Baekhyun kicks his shin, then rubs his calf with his own, wrapping it in a loose lock.

“Then I grew up and realized I hated school.” Baekhyun’s voice lowers. Sehun has gone silent. “I wanted to do music, but that was harder than getting good grades, especially because my parents already had plans for me… Now my mom doesn’t brag about me at all.”

_Nothing to brag about anyway_. A kid who doesn’t know what he wants. A kid with no future. Baekhyun knew he couldn’t fit into the box his parents had planned for him. All his life he’d been told he would become a famous surgeon, like his father and his friends, and Baekhyun, for just as long, knew that it wasn’t what he wanted. And when he decided not to attend college, he was sure it was the right decision—but as the years pass that conviction has been chipping away like old paint.

For the longest time, he couldn’t imagine being happy within the austere walls of a hospital, dealing with sick people all day, but now the uncertainty of his future is scarier than any other scenario. Working dead-end jobs, like the record store, for the rest of his life to make ends meet is frightening at the very least. Making music is the only thing that gives him some satisfaction and that’s just a hobby to Baekhyun.

Pretending to like what others have planned for him in order to meet their expectations has never been him. He would much rather fight for what he wanted than stay and live the kind of future he’d never want for himself.

Sehun’s question is a whisper in the silence. “What happened?”

“I just couldn’t imagine myself being a doctor and doing that for the rest of my life,” Baekhyun reveals. “Now I realize maybe that’s what everyone does, sacrifice their dreams for practicality… Win some, lose some. But the prospect made me so miserable, especially because I already had to fake… other sides of me.”

“Isn’t that what growing up is all about?” Sehun ponders. “Doing things you don’t want to do because you have to do them? But like you said, it makes people sad.”

“Sehunnie, why are you such a grownup?” Baekhyun jokes, shuffling closer. Their foreheads bump together. Sehun groans. “Don’t grow older, you hear me. I want you to stay the way you are.”

“I’m already a grownup,” Sehun rebuts lazily. The space between them smells like beer. “And anyways, I’m happy you did what you wanted or else…”

“Me too.” Baekhyun winds his arms around Sehun. “Don’t drool over my pillow or I’ll kill you.”

“Don’t make noises then.” Sehun pokes him weakly in the ribs. Baekhyun laughs as he wiggles. “You’re even loud in your sleep.”

“That’s my charm,” Baekhyun quips. Sehun hums a vague agreement. “Hope you dream of me.”

Halfway through September, Chanyeol scores them tickets to The Cure through one of his Audio Engineering friends. Sehun picks him up at the record store and they walk to Baekhyun’s flat so he can change before they head to the venue. Sehun is clad in perfect concert attire: Ziggy Stardust tee, flannel shirt, ripped jeans and combat boots. But Baekhyun doesn’t know what to wear—he doesn’t even own flannel.

“Anything you wear will look fine on you,” Sehun comments from the doorway. “And we’re going to be late.”

“No, we’re not,” Baekhyun rebuts, rummaging through his closet. “You just like being early to everything, like the grandpa you’re inside.”

“It’s not bad to be early.” Sehun crosses his arms, pouty lips adorable. Baekhyun grins at him as he tries on yet another shirt. It’s a grey shirt that looks incredibly boring, especially for the place they’re going. He scrunches his nose and throws it on the pile on the floor. “Here, let me help you.”

Sehun searches through his folded clothes and pulls a shirt and jeans with ease: a Queen shirt Baekhyun he bought at a concert two years ago and the tightest jeans he owns.

“If you wanted me to look slutty,” Baekhyun says, “you could’ve just said so.”

“Shut up,” Sehun laughs, “and put this on.”

Sehun doesn’t move away so Baekhyun takes off his pants and puts on the ones Sehun is holding out for him, followed by the shirt without the slightest bit of shame; they’ve slept together many times by now and Baekhyun has seen Sehun changing and taking off his clothes more times than he can count.

The shirt has shrunk in the time that it’s been abandoned in his closet, the seam ending right over his belly button. When he checks the mirror, he confirms that he does, in fact, look like a slutty wannabe punk.

“See, you look great,” Sehun says, with a proud grin. “Let me put some makeup on you.”

“Are you my stylist now?” Baekhyun jokes. Sehun heads to Baekhyun’s bathroom, where his makeup pouch sits open on the sink, and grabs his eyeliner. On his return, he hooks fingers in Baekhyun’s belt loops to draw him closer. In this proximity, Baekhyun can count each one of his tiny eyelashes on his milky skin. “Close your eyes. I’ve never put makeup on another person.”

“You better not stab my eye and blind me,” Baekhyun warns him, closing his eyes obediently. Sehun laughs through his nostrils and Baekhyun grins at the sound. Sehun holds his face in his hand, his thumb pressed to his cheek.

Baekhyun gulps.

“Okay, done,” Sehun announces softly. He doesn’t step back. Baekhyun opens his eyes and checks the mirror. He looks hot. “You look like a groupie now.”

“Shut up.” Baekhyun pushes at Sehun, who merely budges. Sehun hooks his thumb in Baekhyun’s belt loops again and uses his other hand to muss up Baekhyun’s hair so it’s parted neatly in the middle. “Though if I got to be George Michael’s bitch, I wouldn’t exactly mind…”

Sehun laughs candidly, dropping one hand to rummage in his back pocket. “Let’s put some gloss on you, your lips will look nicer.”

“Hey, my lips are gorgeous,” Baekhyun rebuts, accepting his chapstick. It’s strawberry flavored and Baekhyun loves the taste and smell of it. Now he knows what kissing Sehun would be like… And with how close he’s standing right now, his hand running upward to his bellybutton…

“They are pretty.” Sehun’s suddenly engrossed by his mouth. His voice is a lot silkier than Baekhyun’s ever heard it before. Goosebumps prickle all over his skin at that voice and Sehun’s absently playing with his jeans button, a combined punch that leaves him a little dizzy. “They’ll look prettier with gloss on, is what I’m saying.”

They fall into a pregnant pause. Baekhyun racks his brain for ways to change the subject since his brain’s not in a condition to respond to that. “What should I wear over this? Maybe my leather jacket?”

Sehun blinks, breaking from a spell. “Wear my flannel shirt. I brought a jacket anyway.”

“But…” Baekhyun’s weak protest dies in his tongue when Sehun steps away to shrug off his shirt. Until then he hadn’t realized how close Sehun was without his heat. “It looked good on you.”

“I’ll look good with the jacket, too,” Sehun says. It’s not gloating, just plain confidence. Baekhyun loves it when he speaks like that—and he knows that confidence partly comes from that denim jacket. Sehun’s rarely seen without it. “Here.”

Baekhyun tries on the shirt and finds that it fits just right over his shoulders. The material is thick, worn and soft. “We’re the same size. I thought it would look like a circus tent on me.”

Sehun appraises him for a moment, and Baekhyun almost begins to feel flustered at the smile that blossoms on Sehun’s face. It’s almost like… satisfaction. “You look good.”

“You say that because they’re your clothes,” Baekhyun jokes, fidgeting with the ends of his shirt. “My bellybutton is out in the air like a little hoe…”

“You always look good,” Sehun insists. “You know that.”

A bubble of giddiness explodes in his chest. The little smile Sehun gives him is reassuring, and when Baekhyun licks at his lips he tastes strawberry, and wonders if he were to stand on his tiptoes, he would taste the same on Sehun’s lips right now…

“Let’s go,” Baekhyun says, chancing one last glance at the mirror. “Or we’re going to be late.”

Later that night, Sehun finds his hand in the crowd and laces their fingers easily, in the middle of Robert Smith singing _Lovesong_. Sehun isn’t looking at him when he checks, he’s looking at the front with this dreamy gaze, that Baekhyun would love to immortalize in a picture. What he does is lean his head on Sehun’s shoulder, thinking that this is the most perfect moment in his life.

During a cold early October morning, Baekhyun teaches Sehun how to play _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star_ on his old Yamaha. Baekhyun guides his fingers over the keys, sitting side to side on his living room floor. Baekhyun hooks his foot with Sehun’s and strokes the front of his feet with his big toe, just to see how long Sehun can maintain his concentration. Sehun giggles because he’s ticklish everywhere, and Baekhyun keeps doing it until Sehun is squirming away from him.

With the drop in temperature, Sehun has taken to wearing an old navy sweater, its texture worn and coarse, yet it looks entirely too cozy for Baekhyun; whenever Sehun is wearing it, like right now, Baekhyun clings to him like a leech, and they stay like this on the floor for hours watching Doctor Who reruns on tv instead of climbing to the couch.

Sehun’s late-night calls, just after Baekhyun has brushed his teeth, are as frequent and fundamental as dinner. They talk for hours on end, yawning into the receiver and slurring their words, and in spite of this, they only say goodbye deep into the early hours of the morning.

Despite the cold, their usual lunches and dinners at the burger place and the pizzeria never cease. It’s a tradition by now, Sehun letting Baekhyun wipe food off his face and feeding him whipped cream from his hot chocolate, laughing at the faces Baekhyun makes when Sehun drinks coffee instead. None of this is odd, except for the feelings that invade him when Sehun looks at him with kohl-lined eyes in the darkness of a club, or his pouty lips whenever he wants something, or that smile that is barely a quirk of his mouth, paired with a mysterious glint in his gaze, and which gets Baekhyun to piece it apart and put it back together for most of his day.

A considerable amount of Baekhyun’s waking hours are spent thinking about Sehun when he’s not there, during dead hours at work and he realizes he’s read the same paragraph twice in his book, or when he’s trying to work on a song at home, or when he’s rehearsing with the band. Even when he’s with Chanyeol, lying on sex-soaked sheets, he rambles about something Sehun did or said earlier in the day.

_You’re actually in love with him_ , Seulgi had joked one night. She had made fun of him for not smoking when Sehun was present. Her grin was impish and the glint in her eyes was brimming with meaning. When Baekhyun protested _, Isn’t everyone a little in love with their best friends?_ she had expelled a perfect ring of smoke and giggled. _You got me there_.

A cat appears in his window on a drizzly October morning, in the midst of a failed attempt to compose in the kitchen. It’s an unusually stuffy day for autumn, Baekhyun had left the window open wide to let the breeze in, and a honey-colored cat comes slinking along his windowsill from the fire escape stairs, sniffing at the window frame and the curtains like he’s never seen something like it.

Baekhyun has never been fond of cats, ever the dog lover, but the cat has sweet eyes, staring up at Baekhyun as if putting its little life on his hands. So Baekhyun gives the cat a can of salmon and leaves it to its business. Once the food is gone, so is the cat.

The cat keeps coming back after that first time, much to Baekhyun’s surprise. It seems to be accustomed to his schedule, for the cat paws at his window when it’s closed, until Baekhyun goes to open it.

Sehun and the cat meet formally a week later. Sehun crunches in front of the cat to pet its head, and the little animal purrs, its tail curling and uncurling like a spring. Baekhyun is entirely forgotten during this exchange.

“We should name it Puff,” Sehun says. “Like the crème puffs.”

“I was thinking about Fanny,” Baekhyun mentions. “But Puff is nice, too. What’s another Puff among poufs, right?”

Sehun makes to turn, like he’s about to roll his eyes at his joke, but then the cat, Puff, demands his attention back by tapping his leg with its tiny paw. Sehun visibly melts at the action, earning the cat some more strokes and the animal purrs like a small engine in gratefulness. By this, Baekhyun concludes the animal has earned its permanent stay.

“It’s finished,” Sehun announces during one of their late-night phone calls. “I have to show you soon.”

“Show me what?”

“My dance,” Sehun replies. “I’ve been crafting it myself. We’re doing a number at the end of the year and it sort of inspired me to make this by myself.”

“Alright.” Baekhyun smiles into his cushion. The call has gone on for hours. Sleep has slowed his blinking, but the way Sehun speaks passionately about something snaps him wide awake. “When can you show me?”

Baekhyun heads to the studio on a cold Tuesday afternoon, the sky a grey vault over him. The only good thing about fall for Baekhyun is that he can wear his extensive cardigan collection: today’s selection is a baby blue one that falls over his hands but keeps the icy wind at bay.

Sehun is standing in front of the mirror when Baekhyun walks into the studio, a towel draped around his neck and his damp hair pushed back by a clip. The grin that he unveils when he sees Baekhyun gets his heart pumping, as per usual—it’s not really that strange, since the color painting his cheeks makes him look particularly gorgeous.

“Hey, you’re early,” Sehun notes, slightly out of breath, “for once.”

Sweat has darkened the neck of his shirt, which hangs low enough to show his sharp collarbones and a bit of his pectorals. Baekhyun tries not to stare.

“The bus wasn’t late,” Baekhyun says with a placid grin. “So, what are you going to show me?”

Sehun’s smile fades into his features, replaced by a sort of electric kind of focus. He begins to dance, moving around gracefully and jumping in the air as effortlessly as he was made of nothing. It’s even more shocking that he’s dancing to a piece from The Nutcracker. Tchaikovsky was one of his father’s favorite composers to listen to when he worked at home. During elementary school, Baekhyun used to sit at his father’s study, pretending to do his homework, but in reality, he’d go through the album jackets to memorize the names of the beautiful pieces that made his little child heart ache.

A flurry of emotions flit through Baekhyun at once and leaves him lightheaded.

When the music ends, Sehun wipes the sweat off his forehead, and looks at Baekhyun with a cautious yet daring look, that strips Baekhyun naked then puts him back together at once.

“That was beautiful, Sehun,” Baekhyun says. “You’re so talented.”

“Thanks.” Sehun is sheepish, hiding the tiny smile puffing out his cheeks by ducking his head. This Sehun is a complete opposite of the Sehun that had taken over him just minutes ago. The desire to hold his face, to _kiss_ him, splinters Baekhyun like the strike of a thunderbolt. Its force and intensity shock him silent for a straight second.

Sehun’s chest is pearly with sweat, rising and falling rapidly. “Why are you staring at me like that?” He queries, uncapping his bottle. Like a moth to a flame, Baekhyun’s drawn to the way his adam’s apple bobs.

Baekhyun has to clear his throat to make sure he can speak properly. “Teach me what you just did!”

Tchaikovsky’s _Waltz of the Flowers_ plays as Sehun teaches him to do different pirouettes, but Baekhyun severely lacks a dancer’s balance and nearly ends up on his butt several times. Sehun begins to guide him through the movements, then helping to lift him in his arms, which ends up being a disaster when Sehun trips and they fall to the floor laughing.

“What’s the reason you started doing ballet?”

The question takes Sehun off guard. He takes his time drinking from his bottle and then putting it in his bag.

“My dad,” he answers without meeting his gaze. “He took me to see The Nutcracker when I was a kid, and after the show, when I told him I wanted to do ballet he was so excited.” A tiny smile blossoms, lovely and bashful, at the memory. “I did it for him at the start, then I realized it I liked it enough to keep doing it for myself.”

“I’m very thankful to him then.” Baekhyun grins from ear to ear. Sehun’s lips quirk blithely when they finally lock eyes. “Let’s get something to eat. I’m paying.”

“You always pay,” Sehun laughs, slinging his bag on his shoulder. “That’s why I invited you out.”

“You annoying brat,” Baekhyun chides, tugging Sehun’s ear. Sehun wraps an arm over his shoulders and Baekhyun’s entire body stiffens.

“But you like me,” Sehun throws back. The smug curve of his smile and twinkling eyes are a deadly trap. If he stares too long, he’ll turn to stone. “Don’t you?”

Baekhyun grins, slugs Sehun in the abdomen, with enough force that his arm drops from his shoulder, and at that, Baekhyun’s chest finally loosens.

When October slushes into November, Baekhyun gets another letter from his mother. This one is longer than the previous, but just as succinct and impersonal. Baekhyun doesn’t know what to make of all the details about his father’s penchant for golf in the weekends, his mother’s neighborhood book club, and his brother’s new girlfriend (who went to Cambridge, added in particular high-brow fashion).

Baekhyun folds the letter and stuffs it in his notebook for later. Later, he will find the words to write back. Later, he will have the bravery to face his feelings and look for the words he really wants to write.

Instead he focuses on petting Puff, lying on his lap, as he tries to get a tune in the keyboard. If he can’t put the lyrics to his song yet, he can at least transform into a melody. The music is turning out to be as elusive as the lyrics, shifting from cheerful to melancholic, but Baekhyun likes it. He thinks it’s better suited for Chanyeol’s raspy voice than his own, maybe even Seulgi’s higher notes. Either way, he’s reticent to show it to the others, let alone the rest of the world.

Maybe later.

Sehun and Junmyeon call it quits for good on Halloween.

The news doesn’t come from Sehun, as Baekhyun would’ve expected, but from Seulgi, in the cold dampness of Chanyeol’s garage. To say Baekhyun is perplexed would be an understatement.

“Didn’t you hear?” Seulgi cocks her head. “I thought he told you.”

“He didn’t.” Baekhyun rubs at his chest, feeling somewhat lost. That night they’d all attended a Halloween party at an upper part of the city; Baekhyun went dressed in Elton John-style overalls and Sehun as Michael Jackson in Thriller. At some point in the night, Sehun had met up with Junmyeon, and as far as Baekhyun knew, they’d gone home together. “Maybe he was going to tell me later…”

“Still weird, though,” Seulgi mentions, baffled. “You guys are like best friends.”

Baekhyun ignores the scrutinizing look she gives him and stands from the floor to check the mic.

For several nights, Sehun doesn’t answer his phone calls. It’s on the fifth night of these failed attempts that Sehun picks up the phone at last. Baekhyun is briefly shocked when the other line clicks.

“Hello?”

“Sehun?” Baekhyun grips the phone like a lifeline. “Did you finally dignify yourself to pick up the phone? Are you Lady Di or something?”

“Uh, sorry,” Sehun mumbles. Baekhyun winces. He’s such an idiot. “I just… I was under the weather this week.”

“It’s okay,” Baekhyun reassures him softly. “Do you want to go to Joe’s Pizza? My treat.”

“Sure,” Sehun tries for casual. “I’ll meet you there.”

Sehun usually picks him up from work, since it’s close, but Baekhyun will get what he can.

They talk and eat as if nothing has happened. When their plates are empty, they walk down to the beach and trudge to the rocks along the breakwater. Unusually, that day the sky had cleared after noon, and the sun sinking behind the horizon paints it a palette of pink hues. A family plays with a dog some distance away and a couple strolls by the shoreline, the only people in the beach at this hour. Baekhyun is careful where he steps, keeping an eye on Sehun at the same time, constantly holding onto the back of his shirt to make sure he doesn’t slip and fall.

“The sunset reminds me of a song,” Sehun comments.

“What song?”

“I’m not going to tell you,” Sehun singsongs, in that playful manner of his that Baekhyun’s so familiar with. 

“Why not?!” Baekhyun whines, tugging at Sehun’s shirt. “What’s the name of the song?”

“I’m not going to tell you!” Sehun spreads his arms out for balance. “But it puts me in a good mood whenever I listen to it.”

“Why?” Baekhyun’s both entertained and intrigued. “Is it the melody or how it makes you feel?”

“I think both,” Sehun replies, serious as ever. “You know how some songs have a certain mood or color… Well, this song is like a sunset to me.”

“I get it,” Baekhyun says, genuine. “Lionel Riche’s music is like a sunrise then. I’m always sleeping through it.”

“What do you have against him?!” Sehun shoves at his shoulder. Baekhyun screeches as he slips on a rock; Sehun catches him on time by wrapping an arm around his waist. “You can’t even walk safely and you’re out here critiquing music.”

“You made me trip,” Baekhyun protests. The thudding of his heart could rival the noise of the ocean. Whether it’s the fright or Sehun’s contact that caused it is up for debate. “And anyways, I stand behind my critique.”

They sit on a place where the waves can’t reach, shoulder to shoulder, to watch the sunset. The temperature drops by the minute, but Baekhyun revels in the warmth that Sehun emanates, the way the orange light plays on his features…

Seagulls squeak overhead. Waves crash against the rocks, sprinkling drizzle that grazes them by a hair.

“Why did you disappear these past few days?” Baekhyun blurts out. “I was worried about you.”

“I’m sorry,” Sehun says, almost as an afterthought. “I just needed some space.”

“Is it about…” Baekhyun gulps. “Is it about Junmyeon?”

“What about him?” Sehun blinks rapidly. “Because we broke up?”

Baekhyun stares down at his sneakers. The red canvas has dark spots. “I heard that you…”

“It’s not that. Me and Junmyeon…” Sehun searches for words in the sea. “We didn’t have that kind of relationship. We were sort of like… friends. Friends who kissed sometimes.”

“Oh.” Surprise and confusion contort his expression. Then comprehension washes in like a slow tide: Sehun’s avoidance to ever use the term _boyfriend_ , their intimate but carefree behavior. It’s the missing piece of a puzzle. “You never told me that. I thought you guys were serious.”

“We were,” Sehun concedes quickly. “We were exclusive, but we weren’t… I knew I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life with him or anything. I don’t know.”

It’s like watching a cat coiling on itself. Sehun’s voice lowers gradually until it is lost within the waves and only the smooth slope of his pale cheekbone is visible.

A desperate second passes where Baekhyun fishes for a new subject. “Want to go to a gig this weekend?” he entreats, clinging to Sehun’s arm. “Or watch a movie? I’m all free.”

“Don’t do that.” The wind tosses Sehun’s hair in all directions. “Don’t treat me like a child. I don’t like it.”

The terseness in his tone scrapes through the thunderous waves. It stings like a slap to the face and stuns Baekhyun as much.

“Alright, sorry,” he says placatingly. “I’m going to tell you something then since you’ve already told me a secret.” Fingernails scratch at denim. Sehun veers in his direction enough that the curious crinkle in his brows is evident. “I didn’t leave home just because I didn’t want to become a doctor. My brother…” His shoulders brace at the memory. “He caught me kissing his best friend. And he’s hated me ever since.”

Sehun’s head shifts completely. His mouth is rounded like a perfect ‘o’. It gives Baekhyun the strangest urge to giggle.

“I didn’t know that.” Sehun stares ahead again. “But you hardly ever talk about yourself like that. Sure, you talk _a lot_ , but hardly ever about things that truly mean something.”

Baekhyun’s grin is humorous. “I’ll try not to take offense at that.”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way.” Sehun offers a tiny apologetic smile. “But I think that’s the tactic you use to distract people. You talk about lots of things at once to keep people entertained so you never have to tell them things about yourself you don’t want them to know.”

“Woah, you really aren’t holding yourself back today.” Baekhyun lets out a silly excuse for a laugh. “Anything else to say?”

“At first, I thought it was because you didn’t know me well,” Sehun continues, purposeful, “then I asked Chanyeol and he said you were like that with everyone. But you actually let me in on little pieces of yourself… I was happy about that.”

By the vigor in his words and the steadiness of his gaze, Baekhyun can tell Sehun has been withholding this for a while. This sudden outburst is mildly disorienting, if not a little insulting, but he can’t really be mad at Sehun for reading him so well, for honing on the things that Baekhyun assumed nobody noticed.

In the distance, the lights from the pier shine like twinkling embers. The dusk has bruised a diffusive lilac by the time Baekhyun has managed to gather his thoughts.

“You kinda make me sound awful,” Baekhyun accuses, doing his best to keep his tone light. “Because I do trust you, Sehunnie, I just… there are things that I like to keep to myself.”

“I know,” Sehun says sincerely. “But whatever it is… I’m never going to judge or reject you. Just so you know.”

“I know that, Sehunnie.” Baekhyun’s mood perks up in tandem with Sehun’s smile. “Thank you for that. Now, if you don’t have anything else to say… What about that movie?”

Sehun’s wheeze is adoringly choppy. It’s Baekhyun who takes the initiative to link their fingers together. An unspoken truce to their non-fight. As a result, Sehun sets his cheek on his head, half of his body melting perfectly into his side.

“Anything you want.”

As autumn blurs into winter, Baekhyun begins to suspect Sehun doesn’t like sleeping alone. Sehun spent the night often after going to a party, but now, he stays over even when all they did was catch a movie on tv. Not that Baekhyun minds—Sehun makes sure to cook dinner, since Baekhyun is helpless in the kitchen, and leaves some so he can eat the next day.

Baekhyun never mentions it and never complains; it’s nice to have someone to wake up to in the mornings and have breakfast with before heading to work. Domesticity wasn’t a part of Baekhyun’s vocabulary, but the one he has with Sehun has grown around him and enveloped him like his favorite winter coat. It’s given him a sort of steadiness that he didn’t know was missing from his life.

In the second week of November, an unpleasant surprise arrives at his doorstep in the form of his older brother. Baekhyun opens the door in his underwear and sleep shirt. Like clockwork, his brother examines him head to toe with the usual indifference, mediated by an equally tepid smile.

“Caught you at a bad time?”

“No, I just woke up.” Baekhyun’s rubs at his temple, where a headache is throbbing. “What are you doing here?”

“I was passing through,” Baekbeom says. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

Baekhyun steps aside to let him in, still in a stupefied state. Internally he’s thankful Sehun had left early for his ballet class or Baekbeom might’ve gotten a bad impression. It certainly would’ve been the kind of disaster that Baekhyun never wants to witness. Though Baekbeom is nearly as tall as Sehun, he imagines Sehun wouldn’t back down at his brother’s bitchiness that easy.

“What brings you here?”

“Mom told me to check up on you,” Baekbeom says. “So I see you’re alive and well enough to come visit her.”

Baekhyun halts midway to the kitchen. “She wants me to visit home?”

“She wants you to go home for the holidays,” Baekbeom informs him. “Like a good son.”

“But… does dad want me to go?”

“Mom probably convinced him.” Baekbeom’s shrug is aloof. “Maybe you could try to get on his good side while you’re there. Maybe he could get you a nicer place.”

Baekbeom looks around with thinly concealed disdain. Baekhyun glares at his brother, trying not to go off at him right there.

“Is that all you came for?” Baekhyun angles himself purposely toward the door. “Don’t you have a train to catch?”

“I do,” Baekbeom says, already on the move. “Nice to see you, little bro.”

After he’s gone, Baekhyun puts on a Cindy Lauper record and lies on his couch, the lyrics to _Time After Time_ muffled into a cushion. Talking to his brother never fails to leave him in a depressed, hopeless mood, and seeing him after not being in the same room in more than a year has left him a little shaken. His first thought is to call Sehun, but Baekhyun rarely, if ever, relies on people. And yet, he can’t shake off the need to hear Sehun’s voice.

“Hello?” Sehun’s raspy voice comes through. “Baekhyun?”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun says, “how did you know?”

“I could hear _True Colors_ on the other side,” Sehun explains matter-of-factly. Baekhyun laughs. “What’s up?”

“Can we meet up today?” Baekhyun asks. “After work?”

There’s a pause where Sehun registers the sad timbre in Baekhyun’s voice. “Sure, I’ll pick you up.”

Sehun walks into the record store twenty minutes before Baekhyun’s supposed to close. Together they clean up the place and Baekhyun locks the doors outside. Sehun never mentions his call from earlier and Baekhyun is thankful he can count on Sehun to not pry.

They walk along the pier, drinking cheap wine in foam cups, laughing at anything and everything. Sehun is ruddy from the alcohol and Baekhyun’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Near midnight they stumble into a club, their covers paid by Sehun. They only have one drink inside, which Baekhyun spills on the dancefloor.

It’s four in the morning when they finally hop on a taxi. Baekhyun has to shush Sehun singing his heart out to _I Want to Break Free_ when they amble up the stairs to Baekhyun’s flat, lest he wants his landlord to kick him out before the year’s end.

Sehun kicks off his shoes messily, with an empty promise to clean up in the morning. Baekhyun knows he won’t, but he usually makes an amazing hangover breakfast to make up for it.

Sehun stands against the fridge, his head to the side and his eyes closed. Baekhyun is about to ask whether he’s fallen asleep, when his eyes open and fall on him.

“Are you feeling better?” Sehun asks, a hair’s breadth above a whisper.

Baekhyun should be the one asking that. “Yeah,” he says, with a little laugh. “Why?”

“Because you didn’t look good today,” Sehun mumbles, eyes closed again. “You don’t have to tell me why, because you never do, I just wanted to make sure you were okay now.”

It’s amazing the things Sehun notices, but pretends not to, for the sake of Baekhyun’s comfort.

“I do feel better now,” Baekhyun murmurs, clutching Sehun’s hips. “Thanks to you. Now we should go to bed.”

Sehun pillows his face in both hands. “That’s good to know.”

The clock ticks away. Sehun is close, impossibly so, a tiny scar standing out starkly on his right cheekbone. Baekhyun’s lids droop to half mast, on instinct, his chin tipped upwards. It happens in the blink of an eye: Baekhyun rises on tippy toes, brushing his mouth against Sehun’s, then the heels of his feet hit the floor again.

Sirens blare outside. The kitchen is briefly lit in blue and red flashes before retreating into darkness.

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun gasps, “I—”

Baekhyun steps back at once. Sehun’s lips are parted a sliver, an unspoken emotion simmering in his gaze that Baekhyun can’t make out. It disappears as soon as it had come like the beam of a lighthouse in the ocean.

Terror rushes in, a quiet, crushing wave trampling his haziness. He’s been found out, Sehun has discovered his secret at last and…

“It’s alright,” Sehun whispers. “Don’t apologize.”

“Let’s go to bed.” Baekhyun titters out of nervousness. “I need to be up early tomorrow and…”

“Let’s go.” Sehun traps Baekhyun’s hand in his. Baekhyun peers down dumbly at them. “You’ll be cranky tomorrow if you don’t get enough sleep.”

“Shut up.” Baekhyun swats his free hand but misses Sehun. “Hope I’m not drunk tomorrow.”

“I’ll make you breakfast,” Sehun promises, leading Baekhyun to the bed. As if it isn’t Baekhyun’s own flat.

When Baekhyun takes off his shirt, a sudden heat spreads from his neck to the crown of his head. He presses his palms to his cheeks. It’s a silly reaction, for Sehun is turned the other way, removing his pants. In just his underwear, he sneaks under the sheets fast and makes a big deal of shuddering.

“It’s so cold,” he mutters, at Baekhyun’s laugh. “Come to bed.”

Baekhyun licks his lips and does as told, slipping under the covers. His legs touch Sehun’s, as the bed is too small, and he shivers at the coldness of his skin, as much as the touch itself. Sehun doesn’t hesitate to wrap his legs with his, shuffling close until their faces are inches apart, his mouth to Baekhyun’s forehead. The earlier incident is entirely forgotten, it seems, though Baekhyun’s heart quivers like the inside of a drum still.

If Baekhyun was unsure of the nature of these feelings, it is clearer than ever after tonight. But he doesn’t want to face them, when he doesn’t have to.

The first snowfall of the season comes with the last remains of November.

It’s Baekhyun’s off day from work, so he’d called Chanyeol and Seulgi to his flat for an impromptu music session. 

Sehun arrives just after lunch, hair untidy and navy scarf untied. There are grey spots under his eyes and his lips are pale and chapped.

“Are you sick?” is Baekhyun’s first question after he opens the door. “C’mere.”

After ushering Sehun inside, he presses his palm to Sehun’s forehead, the other palm over his own to gauge his temperature. Sehun’s hooded eyes are white, a little bemused smile bucking up his cheeks at Baekhyun’s concern.

“I’m fine,” Sehun croaks. “I just caught a little cold.”

He doesn’t have a fever, but he is warmer than normal. Baekhyun tsks, “A little? You’re not even properly bundled up right now.”

Sehun groans, like a child, and greets his friends with a lazy wave. Then plops down on the couch like a dead weight.

“Ugh, what am I going to do with you?” Baekhyun puts his fists over his hips. “I’m going to make you some tea and then you’re going to bed.”

Sehun has shut his eyes, his head lolled to the side. Baekhyun clicks his tongue.

“We should get going,” Seulgi says. She and Chanyeol stand from the floor. “We don’t need to witness all of your domestic fights.”

“It’s not a fight,” Baekhyun protests. Chanyeol grins mockingly and Seulgi pats his shoulder in consolation. “You’re so annoying.”

Seulgi lets out a sharp laugh. “You love us.” She kisses Baekhyun’s cheek and walks off to the door.

“See you tomorrow?” Chanyeol slings his guitar case over his shoulder. “Let’s catch that movie I told you about. And Sehun, remember Friday night! Don’t flake on me or I’ll be mad forever!”

Sehun is still dosing on the couch—or pretending to, at least, because he waves his fingers again in vague acknowledgement. “Alright,” Baekhyun tells Chanyeol, “pick me up after work.”

Chanyeol ruffles his hair before he parts. The door closing leaves an encompassing silence in his flat, which had been filled with music all day. His neighbor’s Christmas carols are muffled through the walls.

“Let’s get you to bed, Sehun,” Baekhyun says, hunkering down in front of his friend. His temperature has gone up a notch since he arrived. “How did you even get sick?”

“Rain,” Sehun mumbles. “The other night…”

Two nights ago, a gale caught them on their way home from a party. They’d run the distance from the bus stop, and their clothes were soaking wet when they reached the building.

Baekhyun’s chest constricts at the state of his best friend. “Shit, I should’ve made you take a hot shower—”

“It’s okay,” Sehun cuts in. “I just need some sleep.”

Sehun’s breathing has a throaty quality to it. Baekhyun brushes his hair back, and for the first time in minutes, Sehun blinks his eyes open.

“Did Chanyeol stay over?”

“What?” Baekhyun’s caught off guard by the question. “No, he came over with Seulgi after breakfast. Why?”

He deflates with a whistling exhale. “No reason.”

“What was that about?” Though Baekhyun maintains his curiosity at a polite level, he still feels like one of his nosier neighbours. “Friday night with Chanyeol?”

“Nothing, he just…” Sehun’s chapped lips rub together when he speaks. “He wants us to see Die Hard, but I know he’s trying to set me up with someone.”

“Set you up with someone?” Baekhyun’s taken aback. Chanyeol hasn’t mentioned this plan at all. It also hadn’t occurred to him that Sehun would want to date again at some point. So far he hasn’t shown any interest; people _have_ volunteered, mainly at parties and clubs, but Sehun’s brushed them off kindly and gone back to Baekhyun’s side as if nothing’s happened.

“I already told him I’m not interested,” Sehun clarifies. It’s looking like he has to struggle to maintain a coherent thought the more he speaks. “Or maybe I’ll go to watch the movie and eat free popcorn.”

For a reason Baekhyun can’t comprehend the mere prospect of Sehun dating stirs a tiny spike of panic. It’s happened each time Sehun was approached by someone, and the relief that stemmed from their rejection was accompanied by a pinch of shame.

He pushes those muddy feelings down to say, “Maybe you’ll meet someone nice,” and almost cringes right after. The tone makes him sound like a different person—too chirpy, too forced—and only then does he realize he’s gritting his teeth. 

_It’s only because we’re so close_. They’ve been thick as thieves for months, just the two of them. Baekhyun would understandably experience some type of separation anxiety. And yet…

“I don’t think—” The last word is lost in a dry cough. Sehun props up shakily on his elbows. “I’ll go lie down in bed.”

Huddled under the blankets, Sehun seems much smaller than he is. Baekhyun places the tea—honey and lemon—in the nightstand and lies on his side facing Sehun.

“Tell me you won’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t.” Baekhyun pushes Sehun’s fringe aside with his fingertips. “Are you going anywhere?”

“My mom…” Sehun mutters. “In her last call she said…”

A long silence stretches between them. Sehun has gone still, to the point Baekhyun wonders if he’s fallen asleep. He cups Sehun’s cheek and whispers, “Sehun?”

“She said she wants me to go live with her.” Sehun blinks his eyes open. “Not now, but… in the future.”

Baekhyun’s stomach lurches. “Do you want to?”

Nothing in Sehun’s expression denotes an emotion that could open a door to his thoughts. He nuzzles his face into the pillow, eyes closing, and Baekhyun’s hand drops to the bed.

“I don’t know.” Sehun’s throat works. “I can’t imagine myself away from you.”

Baekhyun’s heart leaps, sprints, races ahead the rest of him. There is that pull within him, starting from his abdomen and firing up to his chest, to kiss Sehun, just like last Saturday in his kitchen. It’s so strong it scares him, and for a long moment he can’t think of what to say—but Sehun puts an end to the conversation when he burrows deeper under the covers so only his eyebrows are visible.

A thousand butterfly wings beat against his ribcage. He makes to get off the bed, winded, dizzy from racing thoughts. Sehun’s breathing has slowed down and evened out, so he decides against it and lies back down.

The balm of Sehun’s words should soothe his nerves, but it is not enough—the reminder of his mother’s invitation looms overhead like vultures. He’s achy all over. The dread he’d felt at Sehun dating is nothing compared to the thought of him leaving. He reminds himself Sehun’s not leaving today or tomorrow, and he certainly won’t until he graduates…

When Baekhyun awakens, the light in the room has dimmed. Sehun has scurried closer in his sleep, his arms grazing Baekhyun’s front. He scoots back to push the covers aside and sneak underneath them. Sensing his closeness, Sehun moves so Baekhyun’s head fits under his chin, their legs entwined easily.

It’s hot under the covers, but he doesn’t mind. Not when Sehun is holding him close and he can hear the constant thudding of his heart below his clothes lulling him back to sleep.

The incident is entirely forgotten a week later when another revelation drops upon them.

The group has gathered at Rainbow to celebrate Chanyeol’s birthday. At some point, Baekhyun heads to the bar alone to order a drink for himself. Sehun is nowhere to be seen, but he did say he would be somewhere with Irene.

“Hey, gorgeous,” a male voice says. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Baekhyun turns and finds a good-looking guy next to him, smile sleazy enough to be charming. Any other night Baekhyun would say yes in a heartbeat, but tonight…

“I’m waiting for a friend,” Baekhyun says. “But maybe another time.”

“Too bad,” the guy says, eyeing Baekhyun from head to toe. “I really like your face, but your voice is even prettier. I was wondering what other sounds it can make.”

Baekhyun feels somebody standing behind him before an arm wraps over his waist, its weight possessive and protective. He doesn’t have to look to know who it is; he could recognize that cologne everywhere that spikes up his heartrate in half a second.

“Sorry I got held up by Irene,” Sehun tells him, then to the guy, “I’m going to steal him now.”

“Alright.” The guy moves away from the bar, eyes flitting from Sehun to Baekhyun with a half-smile. “I can take a hint. If you guys do threesomes, though, I’ll be around.”

“Sit tight,” Sehun says lowly after the man takes his leave. Baekhyun laughs, twists in his arms to face him. Sehun wraps both arms around Baekhyun, who he holds his palms up to his chest.

“What was that?” Baekhyun fidgets with the neck of Sehun’s jacket. “Are you my knight in shining armor?”

“No,” Sehun snorts. “That guy looked like a creep.”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun says. Though the guy was good-looking, there was something about his smile that now unnerved Baekhyun. It doesn’t escape him that he wouldn’t have minded some time ago. “I can buy my own drinks anyway.”

“Or I can buy you one,” Sehun proposes. It’s said in a serious tone, lacking the half smirk that comes with his jokes. Baekhyun stops fiddling with Sehun’s jacket and stares up at his friend.

“You?” Baekhyun quirks one end of his mouth. “I’ve bought your drinks every time we’ve been here.”

“I got my allowance today,” Sehun says, “so I can buy you a drink.”

“Alright,” Baekhyun says. “Bet you can’t guess my favorite drink.”

“Easy.” Sehun’s trademark smirk appears, small yet full of mischief. “It’s a mojito.”

Baekhyun gawks. “Am I that obvious?”

Sehun laughs, letting go of Baekhyun to fetch the bartender and order their drinks. Baekhyun already misses his warmth. “You told me one time when you were drunk as a bucket.”

“Well, you owe me a secret then,” Baekhyun jokes, grabbing his drink. “An eye for an eye.”

Sehun sips his drink, the smile loosening in his features. Something in his gaze shifts, a sort of intensity dancing within it that Baekhyun can’t quite pin down. “Maybe I’ll tell you one later.”

“Alright, Mr. Serious Face,” Baekhyun teases, trying to lure another smile out of Sehun. That serious gaze of his has a way of making him nervous lately. Then, grabbing Sehun’s wrist, he leads him away from the bar and towards the dancefloor, “but first let’s go dance!”

Two hours later, they stumble into Baekhyun’s flat singing and swaying off-beat to a poor rendition of _It’s Raining Men_. Baekhyun trips when he slips off his shoes, holding onto the wall precariously, but it’s Sehun who catches him by the waist in time and prevents him falling face first onto the floor.

“Whoopsie,” Baekhyun laughs abashedly. “Maybe I am a little drunk after all.”

The heat of Sehun’s hands is like fire on his skin. Baekhyun doesn’t want to turn to see what kind of expression is on Sehun’s face, so he walks ahead toward the kitchen, slipping out of his grip with ease.

Sehun doesn’t follow. Instead, he announces, “Bathroom,” in a mumble and spins on his heel to trudge towards it. After taking a sip from a glass, Baekhyun splashes his face with water and dries up with a paper towel. When Sehun leaves the bathroom, Baekhyun is leaning against the fridge, just like he was the previous week.

“So,” Baekhyun whispers, “what is your secret?”

“I don’t think you want to know,” Sehun murmurs back, eyes flicking to his mouth. Baekhyun’s stomach flips. “But I wish…”

“Sehun?” Baekhyun’s heart is in his throat. Sehun’s hand is cold on his cheek. As Sehun draws him closer, he can smell the alcohol in his breath, ghosting over his face like a velvety caress.

The first touch of Sehun’s lips is gentle, gossamer. A butterfly alighting on skin. In Baekhyun, it is a typhoon. It’s the lurch in his stomach right before the drop in a rollercoaster. Baekhyun clings onto the sides of Sehun’s shirt, in a mindless attempt to pull away or closer—or to simply feel grounded in some way.

Becoming bolder, Sehun traps his upper lip, skips down, savoring his mouth like candy. The tenderness in the touch coaxes a pleasured sigh. Sehun thumps at his jaw to tilt his head and slip his tongue inside. An earthquake begins from the tips of his fingers to his very bones. Everywhere Sehun touches him, from his mouth to his hips, is on fire. His heart rams itself against his ribcage, as restless as his thoughts. _Sehun, Sehun, Sehun_. The taste of Sehun on his tongue, his musky aroma, the rough texture of his chapped lips…

Then his brain catches up to his actions. Reality is a bucket of cold water dunked over his head, seizing him in icy dread. This is his best friend. It’s not right. Not when Sehun isn’t in his right mind, still drunk, and if neither stop now…

Baekhyun jerks away from the kiss. Sehun chases, punch-drunk, his nose bumping into Baekhyun’s cheek. “Sehun…” He draws in a breath. It feels like his lungs are aflame. “Sehun, we should stop… We can’t do this.”

“What?” Sehun’s voice is raspy, graveled, and god if it isn’t nerve-wracking. “Baekhyun, I…”

“This isn’t a good idea,” Baekhyun says, with more conviction, placing his palm on Sehun’s chest to put some distance between them. When he brushes up his bangs, he realizes his forehead is heated. Sehun’s pants are loud like he’s just finished running a marathon. “We’re both drunk and we’re going to regret this in the morning.”

“I won’t,” Sehun says, after a long moment. “Baekhyun, I… This is what I’ve wanted to tell you.”

“What? Sehun—”

“I like you.” Sehun’s revelation comes out in a quivery breath, but his gaze is steady. “I like you as more than friends.”

“Sehun, you’re drunk,” Baekhyun says, voice small. “You don’t—”

“No.” Sehun shakes his head, eyes closed. “I’m sure of what I’m saying, because I’ve been holding it in for a while.”

“Sehun.” Baekhyun sighs, slumping against the fridge. If he doesn’t find his bed soon, he’s going to collapse right there on the floor. “Let’s talk in the morning. I—I don’t know what to say right now.”

There’s a pause where Sehun’s arms fall back limply, and then, in a second that lasts forever, he steps back and away from Baekhyun. It’s almost like Sehun was holding him up and Baekhyun now feels like he could fall onto a heap on the floor.

“Okay,” Sehun says quietly. “I’ll leave now.”

“No, don’t.” Baekhyun clutches Sehun’s wrist. “You can’t go like this. Something could happen to you. I wouldn’t let you.”

Sehun takes a long look at Baekhyun. Never in his life has he been hit with this sudden urge to hide. But he faces the scrutiny head on, not giving anything away.

“Alright,” Sehun accepts. “I’ll sleep on the couch, if you want.”

“You’re too big to fit there,” Baekhyun says with a disjointed chuckle. He leads Sehun to his room, pushing aside the bead curtain, and Sehun follows in silence.

Baekhyun lies down with his jeans on, not bothering to change. For the first time, in all the nights Sehun has stayed over, he lies on his side with his back to Baekhyun. A desire to hug Sehun, to comfort him, burns in him, strong and consuming, but his uncertainty triumphs over it by far. After all he’s the very same reason why Sehun’s upset, anything he did might only make it worse.

Despite this closeness, there has never this vast of an ocean standing between him and his best friend. It’s a feeling he hates immensely.

Baekhyun awakens hours later to the padding of feet. When he opens his eyes, he finds Sehun scrambling to put on his left sock, and Baekhyun considers letting him sneak out, but he knows that Sehun can disappear when he doesn’t want to confront something.

“Where are you sneaking off to?” Baekhyun says, groggy from sleep. Sehun startles, looking up like the deer caught in the headlights. “You’re not even staying for breakfast?”

“I thought…” Sehun swallows, then tries again. “I thought it would be better if I left and we talked another time.”

“I think,” Baekhyun says, sitting up and jumping out of bed, “there’s no better time than the present. Let me freshen up. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Okay,” Sehun says, sitting in bed with his sock in his hand.

With his back against the door, he closes his eyes and attempts to breathe. Everything that happened hours earlier rushes back to him: the kiss, the heat of Sehun’s hands, the silky feel of his tongue, the intoxicating taste of his mouth… His entire being trembles with a dire mix of dread and desire at the memories.

Baekhyun can’t deny the feelings that he’s been keeping to himself for months—but hearing them from Sehun is different. They’re best friends. He can’t risk losing Sehun. And he’s not made for relationships, of that he’s very much sure, but he can’t bear the thought of breaking his best friend’s heart. If he stops this before it takes flight, perhaps he can still salvage their friendship…

Baekhyun washes his face, brushes his teeth, and exits the bathroom. Sehun hasn’t moved from the bed, both socked feet on the mattress, his thighs pressed to his chest. It’s disarming how younger he looks in that position, Baekhyun has a sudden rush of protectiveness that makes his heart ache even more.

“So,” Sehun mutters, as Baekhyun sits beside him, “say what you have to say.”

Sehun is expressionless, but Baekhyun spots the tightness in his jaw, the slight slope in his eyebrows, as if he’s bracing for a blow. For Baekhyun’s rejection.

“Sehun, you know I appreciate you,” Baekhyun starts. “A lot.”

“Baekhyun, just save it,” Sehun mutters. “If you’re going to—”

“Listen, please,” Baekhyun interrupts firmly. “I’m flattered by what you said last night because I know you’re an amazing person, but I… I can’t give you anything more than my friendship.”

Sehun doesn’t look at him when he stands abruptly. “Okay, that’s all?”

“Where are you going?” Baekhyun catches the back of Sehun’s shirt before he can go far. “Why are you leaving like that?”

“Is that all you had to say?” Sehun snaps. His head is angled away, so Baekhyun can only see the furrow of his brow, the frustration there seeping into his voice. “Because I don’t want to keep listening to it.”

“Sehun, I’m so sorry,” Baekhyun murmurs, placating. “I didn’t want to upset you, but I needed to be honest with you. You’re my best friend and I don’t want to play with you.” He lowers his voice. “You’re special to me.”

Sehun yanks his arm back at the same time he twists to look at Baekhyun. The slant of his brows is heartbreaking, as is the despair shimmering in his gaze. All Baekhyun can do is stare back in helplessness, a painful twist in his stomach that worsens by the second.

“Well, that’s what you don’t understand,” Sehun fires back. “Or what I don’t understand, really. The way you act with me. You treat me like I’m… like I’m so _special_ that it makes me believe that you… that you feel the same way I do.”

Baekhyun’s at a loss for words.

Spurred on by dread, his body shoots forward to stand in front of Sehun. Until then, it hadn’t occurred to him that Sehun would pick up on his feelings, just like he’d failed to notice the real depth of Sehun’s feelings for him. He’s torn between continuing to deny this, or finally admit that he…

“So, what is it?” Sehun demands. “I want you to tell me that I’m wrong. It’s the only way I’ll be able to put my feelings aside and move on from this. So please do me that favor.”

Adrenaline shoots through his system. His ruse dangles precariously over the precipice of discovery. It’ll only take a push for it all to fall to his feet.

“Sehun, I…” Baekhyun’s chin is inches from his clavicle. “I can’t do that.”

“What?” Desperation echoes in Sehun’s voice. His feet shuffle closer, nearly touching Baekhyun’s. “What was that?”

The cat’s out of the bag.

“I can’t deny that,” Baekhyun admits, voice trembling. “So there.”

A beat passes where no one moves, no sound is made. Sehun’s gaze has mellowed considerably, when Baekhyun dares to look, and it locks him in place. A long stream of breath slackens his shoulders, releasing hundreds of years of longing along with it.

“Baekhyun,” he utters in a whisper. It has such an intimate note, like each syllable was precious.

It all happens so fast, Baekhyun doesn’t have time to figure out how. Sehun steps forward to tip his face upward, then he’s kissing him, with such force it knocks the wind out of his lungs. It takes a second for Baekhyun to recover and grasp what’s happening, but as soon as he does, he clutches the front of Sehun’s shirt for dear life, giving back as much he’s given and some more.

This time, he lets it happen, completely aware of what’s going on. That this may be a huge mistake, and yet he can’t pull away from Sehun. This time Baekhyun can’t help himself. Everything he’s been bottling up, pushing down, for months on end, is pouring out into this kiss, into the way he sighs every time Sehun touches his waist, the way he pulls at his hair with just the right amount of strength to tilt his head and slot their mouths perfectly.

After a while, they finally separate to breathe. Sehun presses their foreheads together, never letting go, Baekhyun’s fingers curled over the short hairs at the back of Sehun’s head.

“So…” Sehun breathes. “Do you like me?”

_Like_. Baekhyun has weighed that word before, and no matter how many he spins the syllables around, somehow, it doesn’t seem quite fitting for what he feels.

Elation spreads in tingly ripples to every inch of him. Baekhyun titters, “What do you think?”

Clinging to the high of the kiss, Baekhyun lets the thrill of it all wash over his worries. Sehun traces his thumb over his cheek with the same kind of reverence he can hear in his tone. It’s Baekhyun this time who bumps his nose with Sehun’s, their lips grazing, trapping his upper lip between both of his own to move down over the other. Sehun opens up for him, his tongue coming to greet Baekhyun’s in a wet swirl.

Sehun sneaks under his shirt, riding it up, his hands tracing the lines of his body slowly. Baekhyun shivers, not so much at the coldness in the room, but the press of his thumbs over his ribs. In an act of boldness, Baekhyun pushes Sehun’s shirt up, trailing his fingers over the ridges of his abs, up and down, and hooking his thumbs in the loops of his jeans.

Suddenly, Sehun pushes back, and staring straight into Baekhyun, he takes off his shirt, tossing it carelessly on the floor. Baekhyun’s grin is a touch wicked. Sehun responds with a subtle quirk of his mouth, the one Baekhyun loves. As Baekhyun steps in to wrap his arms around Sehun’s neck, the phone rings in the living room. A groan escapes past Baekhyun when he loosens his grip on Sehun, his bottom lip pulled out at Sehun’s chuckle.

“Don’t answer,” he ventures, closing the distance. “Let the machine pick it.”

Then, Baekhyun glances at the clock on his nightstand and balks at the time. “Fuck, I’m late to work!” He steps off Sehun, running to grab his shoes and a clean shirt. “My boss is going to kill me!”

Five minutes later, when Baekhyun is at the door, Sehun grabs him by the wrist to veer him towards him. With a palm on his jaw, Sehun kisses him, momentarily making Baekhyun forget he’s meant to be somewhere else.

“I’ll see you tonight at Chanyeol’s?”

Right. Party tonight. Baekhyun won’t have time to talk to Sehun until afterwards, perhaps even later if Sehun doesn’t drink enough to fall asleep on his lap in the cab back home like he usually does.

“Sure.” Baekhyun disengages himself expertly and steps outside. “I’ll see you later!”

That night Baekhyun sticks to Jongdae and doesn’t leave his side, undeterred when Jongdae begins throwing him weird looks. He doesn’t see much of Sehun that night; the last glimpse he got of him was between Amber and Seulgi in a tattered couch watching Chanyeol fail miserably at a chaotic game of beer pong.

“What happened with Sehun?” Jongdae asks. Baekhyun focuses on a couple dancing spectacularly off-beat to The Pointer Sisters. “He isn’t following you around like usual.”

“He doesn’t always follow me around,” Baekhyun refutes. Jongdae’s deadpan doesn’t budge. “And anyways, maybe he just wants to hang out with other people tonight. It’s no biggie.”

Clearly, Jongdae doesn’t buy his explanation, for his stare lasts a little too long for Baekhyun’s comfort. He chooses to say nothing in the end, but knowing his best friend, Baekhyun knows he’s far from free of his questioning.

They leave a quarter to three in the morning, squeezing into a cab with Seulgi, Irene and Jongdae. Baekhyun rushes to sit by the window so Seulgi is wedged between him and Sehun. Jongdae promises to get Seulgi home safe when Baekhyun and Sehun alight at Baekhyun’s flat—and doesn’t hold back one last suspicious look before the cab heads off down the road.

Baekhyun’s entire body is rigid. They make their way up the stairs in silence, Sehun swinging their entwined hands. It’s when they step into the flat that the tension finally snaps like a balloon bursting: Baekhyun doesn’t get to turn on the light or take off his shoes before Sehun cages him to the wall.

The nerves buzzing inside of Baekhyun disperse at last. All night he’d had a craving to touch Sehun, to be close to him. After the taste he got in the morning, it was all he could think of during the rest of the day. And now that he has him here, his body molded into his own, his warmth encasing him, it’s hard not to give in despite his inhibitions, which are quickly shrinking in the wake of his desires.

Sehun is his biggest weakness, he’s come to realize.

Sehun’s bangs are long enough to tickle his forehead as he inclines so close that their breaths mingle. His nose is cold on Baekhyun’s cheek.

“Let me take off my shoes,” Baekhyun whispers. The last note in his voice cracks. “And wash my teeth—I smell like Cheetos and Heineken.”

“Gross,” Sehun chuckles. Before he pulls away to let Baekhyun leave, he steals a quick kiss that draws a winning little smile in his lips, and melts Baekhyun inside like ice cream on hot concrete.

Once he’s changed into his pajamas and brushed his teeth, comes the dreaded question, “Why were you avoiding me tonight?”

Baekhyun turns off the bathroom light and pads to the bedroom. Sehun is sitting in bed, his back to the headboard and looking at Baekhyun expectantly. There’s no accusation in his voice, just curiosity. The simple answer would be that Baekhyun isn’t sure of what he’s doing right now and never has been so lost as to what to do. But the other answer, simpler in nature, would be that Baekhyun didn’t know what would happen if Sehun touched him, with the merest of touches, and he didn’t trust himself enough to let it happen, especially in front of all their friends, lest it exposed them.

Jongdae particularly has a way to get under his skin. Baekhyun wouldn’t have been able to withstand his meddling and questioning, when nothing has ever been so uncertain and his own mind is a mess at the moment.

“I wasn’t,” he lies boldly. “Jongdae needed to tell me something. Apparently he’s finally made some moves on the guy from the surf shop.”

Sehun hums and stares down at his lap. Baekhyun falters and shuffles over to sink into the spot beside his friend.

“Sehun…”

“Chanyeol said I looked happy,” Sehun mentions. “I didn’t want to tell him anything, but—but maybe he’s figured it out.”

That takes Baekhyun aback. Then, the realization that he’s the source of Sehun’s happiness hits him. From the spit of his stomach, thousands of butterflies flutter around his insides to settle at his chest. Baekhyun smiles, giddy, and folds his fingers over Sehun’s hand placed on the bed.

“Chanyeol’s a bit dense,” he says. “Bet it’ll take him ages to catch on.”

“He still hasn’t realized Jongin has a big, fat crush on him,” Sehun acquiesces, amused. Baekhyun gasps overstatedly at this juicy piece of gossip, and the crinkles around Sehun’s eyes deepen.

“ _No!_ ” Sehun nods. Baekhyun giggles. “Oh my god, that’s so cute. No wonder Nini is always so clingy and cuddly with him…”

Sehun’s shoulders quake with a small laugh. Baekhyun strokes his thumb over the back of Sehun’s hand. His veins are prominent under his pale skin, trailing like vine up his arm. It’s so sexy, one of those things about Sehun that drive him crazy, and he often can’t go without touching his arms in some way.

Silently, Sehun pulls at his wrist with just the faintest force to get Baekhyun to meet him halfway for a kiss. Sehun holds the side of his face gently, as if Baekhyun were to flee any moment. The gesture squeezes his chest. He should stop and tell Sehun what’s been on his mind all day once and for all… but now that he’s gotten a taste of him, he doesn’t know how to stop. Now that he’s gotten Sehun, he doesn’t know if he can give him up.

Once they separate, Sehun joins their foreheads. Baekhyun takes a deep breath, begging for his heart to slow down.

“Sehun…” he starts faintly. “Before we go on with this, I think we need to talk.”

Sehun pushes back instantly, searching gaze boring into Baekhyun. He almost wants to look away. “About what? This morning you said—”

“I know, but…” Baekhyun bites down on his lower lip. “But I meant what I said. I can’t give you false hope. You’re my best friend. If I sleep with you now, I don’t think anything will truly change for me.”

The heartbreak settling over Sehun’s features is the worst thing. It’s like watching a car crash in progress, and Baekhyun can’t tear his eyes away in time for the collision.

“So you’re saying, even if you like me,” Sehun infers, “you’re never going to be with me anyway?”

The collapse of the walls protecting his secret has only made his fears stand out even clearer in the remaining rubble. Admitting it is as far as he can go.

“You know I don’t do relationships.” Baekhyun pushes saliva down over the rock in his throat. “I don’t know how. And you’d end up hating me when you realize eventually. I wouldn’t forgive myself if that happened… If I ever hurt you.”

Sehun’s features have shuttered. The hope twinkling in his eyes has faded, though dredges of it still cling to his tone. “Maybe we could just… fool around like this,” he perseveres. “It doesn’t have to be serious, if you don’t want to.”

Baekhyun flinches at the pleading note in Sehun’s proposition. He hates himself for putting it there. For a moment, he’s entirely willing to give in to that suggestion, but through his years of toying and _being_ toyed, he knows what it’s like settling for less just to have someone. Sehun’s unexperienced. _Naïve,_ almost _._ And the last thing Baekhyun wants is to take advantage of his best friend. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says gently. “It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“Don’t do that.” Sehun’s voice has the same sandpapery roughness as his words. “You know I hate it when you treat me like a child.”

Defeat hangs heavily over his trembling lashes. There, Baekhyun can spot the vulnerability in his downcast irises, and a telltale shimmer that makes his stomach lurch with guilt.

Sehun sits up at the same time Baekhyun whispers, “I’m sorry,” and he catches the wince that twists the pretty shape of his mouth. His mouth swollen pink by Baekhyun’s doing.

“It’s alright,” Sehun’s response is a listless mumble. “Guess I set myself up for this.”

The words he needs to spin this whole situation around sit neatly behind his teeth. But like a coward, Baekhyun bites his tongue hard enough to bleed and lets his heart wilt away with the terrible ticking of the clock.

The creaking of the mattress at the loss of Sehun’s weight is heartrending. _Tick tock, tick tock_. Sehun fetches his shoes from the floor and heads out of the room. Weakly, Baekhyun mumbles, “Wait,” but it gets swallowed by the slam of the front door and the deafening silence that follows.

“So everything went to shit,” Jongdae remarks, “is what you’re telling me.”

They’re at the pier eating fries during Jongdae’s break. Since he works part-time at an ice cream parlor, there’s a huge banana split painted on his pink apron, which is obviously great ammunition for Baekhyun. For this reason, it was a bit hard to take him seriously once he started his story about what happened in his flat last Saturday, but once he got going, he couldn’t stop the deluge of words.

Baekhyun hasn’t heard from Sehun in days. It’s not unexpected, since Baekhyun remembers his long absence after his breakup with Junmyeon, and he almost, _almost_ convinces himself it’s a good thing that he takes his time to lick his wounds.

But this week without Sehun has left him empty and stranded—a blind man wandering down an endless tunnel. And he surely has been blind.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Baekhyun drones. Jongdae grins and eats another fry. “But I’m sure it’ll pass eventually.”

“How? You literally broke his little heart,” Jongdae rebuts, mouth full. “You can’t just expect him to snap out of it. That’s insensitive.”

“Not really.” Baekhyun slurps his milkshake and shakes his head. “Sehun is young. He’s going to… get over it with time and we’re going to move on and be the same as we’ve always been.”

“That’s terribly optimistic,” Jongdae opines. “And also very unrealistic, if I may add.”

Baekhyun gives him a withering look. “You may not.”

“And what I don’t understand,” Jongdae plows on, scraping the bottom of his carton with his plastic fork and ignoring Baekhyun’s comment, “is why you’re still in denial about your feelings.”

“What feelings?”

Jongdae arches an eyebrow that screams _really, bitch?_ Baekhyun gnaws on the straw of his milkshake and peers down at his cold fries.

“I may have feelings for Sehun,” Baekhyun admits lowly. Jongdae hums in agreement. “But I’m not going to act on them. It wouldn’t be good for Sehun. _Especially_ for Sehun.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t do relationships,” Baekhyun responds, adamant. “You know I like sleeping around. I like being alone and having my own space. You know me. It just wouldn’t work out.”

“I think you’re convincing yourself of that,” Jongdae says, “because you haven’t even tried it out yet.”

“Well, what would you do?”

“I’d suck Sehun’s dick,” is Jongdae’s prompt reply. Baekhyun stomps on the floor with laughter. “I mean, have you seen him? Who would turn down a guy like that?”

“Me, apparently.” Baekhyun leans his head on Jongdae’s shoulder. “I just want things to stay as they are. I want my best friend back.”

“You can’t just ignore Sehun’s feelings for your sake,” Jongdae says softly, petting Baekhyun’s hair comfortingly. Baekhyun closes his eyes at the touch. “It wouldn’t be fair to him.”

Baekhyun lifts his head to gaze at Jongdae. “So what should I do then?”

Before the words bounce out of Jongdae’s mouth, Baekhyun already dreads them.

“Make a choice,” is his friend’s advice. “And when you eventually make a choice, do the opposite. Your choices aren’t always sound.”

Baekhyun gulps. “I don’t want to make a choice.”

Jongdae rolls his eyes, then clasps Baekhyun’s nape to kiss him. It’s chaste, sweet and comforting, and Baekhyun smiles, placing his head on Jongdae’s shoulder again.

“Just stop being dumb about this before I kick you in the nuts,” Jongdae warns, without any actual threat. “You feeling better yet?”

“A little,” Baekhyun says. “Thank you. Asshole.”

This is the kind of stability that Baekhyun finds comfortable, and the kind that Sehun also offers him. Yet he can’t expel the fear that he may hurt him in the end.

Jongdae grabs his hand to lace their fingers together demands his attention. Just for a little while, Baekhyun lets his mind wander into other things.

“It’s nothing, you dick.”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Baekhyun looks away from the ceiling to regard Chanyeol lying beside him, naked as the day he was born. Chanyeol likes covering his crotch now and then after sex, but his legs curve and extend on the bed, smooth and wiry and delectable.

“I was thinking about Sehun,” Baekhyun says with a sigh. “We haven’t talked in two weeks and I’m going to London next Friday.”

Chanyeol stares at him for a moment, a pensive crinkle in his forehead. “Why don’t you just… talk to him?”

“What if he doesn’t want to talk to me or see me right now?” Baekhyun faces the ceiling again. “I want to give him space. He needs it. I can’t go knocking down his door because I miss him. You know, he said the way I treat him sometimes confuses him and I don’t want to keep messing with his head.”

“I think you already know the answers,” Chanyeol says softly, as if talking to a child, but it’s not condescending at all, “but you just don’t want to admit them.”

“I don’t know,” Baekhyun says. “I don’t know anything, Chanyeol.”

“Want me to give you a bit of my infinite wisdom?” Chanyeol jokes. “Or you want us to have another go at it to take your mind off things some more?”

Baekhyun considers his options seriously before he sighs. “Shoot.”

“I think you’re scared,” Chanyeol says. “Not just of hurting people, but of letting people in and getting hurt in return. And that’s why you do everything you can to keep people at arm’s distance so they can’t _leave_ you.”

“Okay, Oprah,” Baekhyun says. “I was not ready for _that_.”

Suddenly, Chanyeol gets off the bed, and, butt naked, runs to grab a notebook and pen. “Wait, this is good—”

“Are you going to make a song out of my pain?!” Baekhyun cackles when Chanyeol shrugs comically in response. “I can’t believe it—I guess this is why we would’ve never worked out as a couple. You would’ve turned everything into a song and I would’ve had to kill you.”

Chanyeol guffaws, smacking at the bed. When he calms down, he sits by Baekhyun’s feet. “I only like putting real things into songs. And well,” he says, “we would’ve been a bit messy. You and Sehun on the other hand…”

Chanyeol trails off, gazing emphatically at him. Baekhyun traps his lower lip under his teeth. He knows what he means. He and Sehun work in a way that he’s never experienced with anyone before.

“I still don’t know what to do.” Baekhyun hugs his bent legs. “I just don’t want to lose him.”

“It’s going to sound corny,” Chanyeol warns. He chuckles at Baekhyun’s groan. “But just do what your heart tells you to do. It’s what he’s doing. Don’t think about the future—think about now.” He pauses and smiles demurely. “It’s not bad to let people love us, Baekhyun. I know all your family stuff roughened you up, but you can’t live expecting everyone to treat you like that, y’know? You deserve much more than you’ve convinced yourself.” 

Baekhyun presses his lips together. The topic of his family has always been a rocky one… he’d much rather drink car oil than discuss his issues with his closest friends any day. But Chanyeol’s words have tickled that part of him that keeps all those old wounds sealed away, deep inside the wired-walls of his heart.

It’s very, very embarrassing that his vision has become slightly blurry, and it’s even more mortifying that his attempts at hiding it fail, because Chanyeol’s face crumbles when he notices. “I’m so sorry—”

“No, it’s fine.” Baekhyun sniffs, then chuckles. “Thanks for that. Dickhead.”

“No problem, dipshit.” Chanyeol pats his knees comfortingly. “It’s all going to be alright.”

Baekhyun wants to believe him badly, but for once in his life, he doesn’t know how to be an optimist.

On Friday, Baekhyun has his bags packed in his doorway. Seulgi is the only one among his friends with a valid driver’s license and the only one he trusts enough not to kill them on the road. Chanyeol has come along to help get the bags from his second-story flat all the way down the stairs and to the car.

“Why’d you pack so much if you’re going there for a week?” Chanyeol grumbles, dragging along Baekhyun’s suitcase. “It’s not like you’re going to change your outfit every two hours.”

“Well, the short answer is that I’m gay,” Baekhyun quips, walking behind Chanyeol. “And the long answer is that I’m going to London and I’m gay.”

“You’re just impossibly vain,” Seulgi says, in her own fond way. Baekhyun scrunches his nose at her and she pinches his cheek.

In the street, they find Sehun waiting in the pavement. He stares at Baekhyun with something like astonishment as they meet eyes for the first time in weeks. Baekhyun’s heart is a hummingbird in his chest.

“Hey, Sehun,” Chanyeol says, looking nervously from one to the other, “what are you doing here?”

Chanyeol’s never been good at pretending and Baekhyun realizes quickly that this isn’t a coincidence. He decides to play along. “Hey,” Baekhyun greets timidly. “How’s it going?”

“Good, thanks.” Sehun’s stance is distant at first. Then his shoulders droop just an inch and he meets Baekhyun’s gaze steadily. “I wanted to see you off, since we haven’t, you know…”

“I know,” Baekhyun says. “Let’s hop in. We have another seat.”

It’s an obvious olive branch Baekhyun is extending. Sehun’s smile is minute, diffident, but it brightens his whole countenance. Baekhyun’s relief is almost physical; he soaks on Sehun’s sunlight as if it’s been years since he last stood under the sun. 

“Hey, don’t act like it’s your car,” Seulgi jokes, nudging him with her elbow. Everyone laughs, breaking some of the tension. “I’m just taking you there this one time.”

“And I’ll be eternally grateful, miss Seulgi.” Baekhyun bats his lashes at her. Seulgi shoves him playfully, which makes Baekhyun and Chanyeol guffaw. In the same breath, he catches Sehun smiling at him, openly affectionate, and a tiny twinge stabs him right in his sternum on cue.

During the ride, Chanyeol engages Sehun in conversation while Baekhyun and Seulgi talk in the front seats. Baekhyun does his best to remain calm, but he twitches every time Sehun does so much as speak.

Once Baekhyun’s luggage is off the trunk, Seulgi and Chanyeol say their goodbyes outside the station—which means Sehun and Baekhyun have to walk inside alone. The traitors respond with enthusiastic smiles and matching thumb ups at Baekhyun’s not-so-subtle glowering.

Sehun offers to carry his suitcase for him, a gesture very unlike him. Baekhyun doesn’t comment on this, only lets him walk with it with almost unperceivable amusement. Baekhyun sits down to wait for the train whenever he travels, but it’s impossible now with his nerves so frazzled; it’s insane and absurd what being near Sehun can do to him. But he hasn’t seen the boy in what’s felt like an eternity and his entire body seems to be on high-alert.

“So, Sehun,” Baekhyun starts, “how’ve you been these past weeks?”

“I’ve been good,” Sehun replies, nonchalant. His hands are stuffed in his pockets. “I’m sorry for what happened last time.”

“It’s okay, Sehunnie,” Baekhyun rushes to assure. Dread hooks its fangs into his spine. “We don’t have to—”

“I just want to say something,” Sehun interrupts him. “Just one last thing and I promise I’ll never bring it up again.”

Baekhyun licks his lips, his heart in his throat. “Okay,” he agrees faintly. “I’m listening.”

“I’m sorry for acting so childish,” Sehun says, scratching at the back of his head. “I shouldn’t have been so abrasive. And I’m sorry for leaving like that.”

“I was worried about you,” Baekhyun murmurs.

“But I’m not sorry for kissing you,” Sehun goes on, unfolding a sheepish smile. Baekhyun’s heart leaps, threatening to leave his body. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. And you did, too.”

Baekhyun chuckles, a tremulous sound. The desire to kiss Sehun in this moment is so strong, it feels like a gravitational force stringing him in. He almost wants to exclaim, _fuck it all_ , and finally tell Sehun that—

The porter begins closing the doors, calling for passengers to board in a booming voice. Sehun casts a panicked glance to his side.

“I missed you these past weeks,” Baekhyun confesses. Sehun’s gaze mellows in an instant. “I know you said these kind of things confused you, but I have to say it. I’m going to miss you while I’m gone.”

“I’m going to miss you, too,” Sehun says. “I’m sorry for staying away. It’s going to be okay from now on.”

The wind rises in the platform, flipping abandoned newspapers and foam cups off benches. A lock of hair breaks loose from Sehun’s beanie and flaps over his forehead. Baekhyun stops himself in time from brushing it away for him. Some habits are hard to kill.

“Is it?” Baekhyun asks, hopeful. Sehun nods. The porter is announcing the last call to board. “I should get going or they’re going to leave me here.”

Sehun smiles lopsidedly, then, unexpectedly, he hugs Baekhyun. Baekhyun hugs him back, as tight as he can, pouring into the embrace all the yearning he’s stowed in the previous weeks. He wants to tell Sehun he’ll call, but he knows it’s better if they start slow, in case Sehun wants to keep his distance for a while longer until things are normal for him.

“When do you think you’ll be back?” Sehun’s murmur is silky against his ear. “I’m not used to you being gone for so long…”

Baekhyun wards off a shiver at Sehun’s breath over his skin. “I’m not sure,” he responds. “Maybe just a few days if everything goes to hell.”

Sehun chuckles, his eyes closing for a bit. Baekhyun’s heart twists, because he’d missed that beautiful sound. “Well, either way, have fun.” It’s Baekhyun’s turn to laugh when they break away. “One last thing—make sure to check your pocket when you’re in your seat.”

Baekhyun cocks his head. “Why?”

“Just do it,” Sehun orders him covertly. “Go before you miss your train. Take care and Merry Christmas in advance!”

“You, too!” Baekhyun waves goodbye, hurrying towards the train. “Party all you can for me!”

Sehun laughs loudly, one palm waving goodbye, the other in his pocket. This is how Baekhyun wants to think of him for the rest of the holidays, not the pain and dejection over his features he’d been replaying for the past few weeks in his head over and over like a broken record.

An hour into his trip, Baekhyun searches his pocket, like Sehun had instructed him. All he finds is a folded sheet of paper, and inside, a polaroid of the two of them at a party smack-dab in the middle of summer.

The letter is written in Sehun’s familiar misshapen scrawls. It tugs an instant smile from Baekhyun.

_Dear Baekhyunnie:_

_I hope your train ride is good, and that you don’t get sick and throw up on somebody’s shoes. You said once your stomach can get a little fragile on train rides, especially when you read for too long, so try to take a nap._

_I wanted to tell you all this to your face, but I don’t know if I’ll have the time to do it. I don’t want to leave things hanging before you go. So… the things is_ _―I_ _’m not really a coward, but I’m afraid of a couple of things now. Things haven’t been well between us and I was afraid of making it worse. Spending some time apart can do us well, maybe_ _―but I_ _’m not gonna lie_ _―I_ _’ll miss you._

_The thing is… I just wanted to tell you: I’m sorry. For everything._

_And I want to try being just friends, I really do. You’re my best friend, and I know best friends don’t kiss, but the way I feel about this, about us, it’s different. And I have a feeling you know what I mean. You and me. Before I met you, I wasn’t afraid of anything, but now my biggest fear is losing you. I know I can be immature and impulsive, but the truth is, and you probably already know, is that I love everything about you. I’m so happy to call you my friend, and I’d be more honored if you’d let me call you my boyfriend._

_So, if you want to give me a chance, give us a chance, I’ll be waiting for you here. I’d wait with lilies_ _―your favorites, I know, don_ _’t say they aren_ _’t—at the station, but you’d probably die of embarrassment. If you don’t want to give us a chance, I’ll understand, and I promise we’ll go back to just being us._

_Yours forever,_

Sehun.


	2. last night i dreamt that somebody loved me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!!! i'm so sorry this update took so long, i've been busy lately ;;; once again a reminder this is set in 1988 if the setting is not so clear lol. 
> 
> i hope you guys are doing well and taking care of yourselves!!!

Baekhyun’s childhood bedroom looks the same as it did the day he left home for Brighton. Posters of Prince, Michael Jackson, Harrison Ford as Han Solo, The Smiths, Whitney Houston, Madonna. His sheets are the same, though they’re clean, and he figures his mother has them washed and changed regularly. His old toys are on his desk, along with his Star Wars figurines. His VHS collection is on a box, along with the records he’d chosen to leave behind.

He sits on his bed for a while, staring at the ceiling where he’d pasted a glow-in-the-dark constellation and stickers of different colors and sizes over the years. Something’s written near the ceiling fan in black marker that he can’t remember having written. Maybe the lyrics to a song he loved at the moment. It’s when he’s thinking about climbing on his desk chair to inspect it when the door opens to reveal Baekbeom.

“Hey, dinner’s ready,” Baekbeom says. His arms are hanging awkwardly at his sides and he’s avoiding looking at Baekhyun in the eye. “Mom made your favorite.”

Standing, Baekhyun queries, “What’s that?

“I don’t know.” Baekbeom shrugs. “That’s what she told me to tell you.”

Baekhyun expels an amused chuckle. “Alright.”

Baekbeom’s mouth quirks, then it flattens a moment later when he turns to leave.

In the dining room, his father is already seated at the head of the table, his mother sitting in that stiff, elegant way of hers. They both turn in unison when Baekhyun walks in, their faces not showing the slightest reaction to his presence. When he sits, however, he can see a tiny curl in his mother’s lips, her eyes welcoming across the table.

“How was your trip, son?” his mother asks, picking up her cutlery. Her hands are dainty and pale, just like Baekhyun’s. “It can be quite bothersome to travel by train this time of the year.”

“I had a book with me so it was a bit bearable,” Baekhyun answers, giving her a smile. His father cuts his stake with dedicated precision. “Maybe you’ve read it before. You told me about your book club in one of your letters, if I remember correctly. How’s that going?”

It’s small, vacant talk, following a script that Baekhyun knows how to navigate. It’s also safe, this way his father will stay on the sidelines and his mother will play the part of the attentive host and apathetic mother.

“Ah, yes.” His mother grabs her wine glass by the stem like a practiced drinker. “It’s going great. I even got some of your father’s coworker’s wives to join. You could come to one of our gatherings while you’re here.”

His mother smiles at him purposely. Since he was a kid, he used to be his mother’s friends’ favorite for his ability to charm people easily, to the point they would send him double gifts for Christmas and birthdays.

“So, dad,” Baekbeom interrupts, “when’s the hospital’s Christmas party going to be?”

Baekhyun cuts his steak into a perfect square. Chancing a furtive look to his left, he sees his father tossing him a quick, sidelong glance, full of indifference even in its furtiveness, which causes Baekhyun to divert his attention back to his food.

“Christmas eve,” his father retorts, curt and detached. Baekhyun hasn’t heard his monotone tenor in so long; for this it affects him all the more. “Before everyone leaves for the holidays.”

“Good,” Baekbeom says politely. Then, directed at Baekhyun, “are you going to be there, little brother?”

Baekhyun takes a sip of his wine, fending off the urge to shrink down in his seat at the sudden attention of everyone at the table. With the pad of his thumb, he wipes remaining wine from the corner of his mouth, remembering belatedly that this is uncouth by the horrified look on his mother’s face.

“I don’t know,” Baekhyun replies, blasé. “Should I be? I thought I just came for the Christmas postcard picture.”

“Of course you’re going to be there,” his father states firmly. “You’re a part of this family, and therefore the legacy of my work, whether you like it or not. You’re going to be there to greet my colleagues.”

“I am not a part of your hospital,” Baekhyun snaps back. “I have never been. I’m not even sure I’m part of this family either, for the way you like to act like I’m an unwanted guest.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t come visit us,” his mother accuses. “Who doesn’t write or call.”

“You abandoned this family,” his father spits. “The day you decided you weren’t going to med school. But I decided to forgive you and give you a chance—You’re going to work for Mr. Kim’s company—”

“I am not going to be what you want me to be!” Baekhyun repeats, raising his voice. “I am not your puppet!”

“Do you think I will let you ruin your life by doing whatever you do in Brighton?” His father slams his fist on the table, the china and cutlery clanking with its force. Baekbeom and his mother jolt in unison. “You’re not going to be partying every night and playing with your little band forever—that’s not a respectable life. You need to think about your future! You—”

His father’s face reddens, his eyes widening, and the fist he had on the table opens and goes to clutch his sweater over his sternum. Gasping, he slumps over his plate, barely holding himself up by an elbow on the table.

“Dear!” Baekhyun’s mother shouts, rushing to his father’s side. Baekhyun is suddenly gripped by fear, by the way his father is panting, sweating profusely. “Baekbeom, call the doctor!”

Baekhyun can barely sleep that night or the days that follow. The doctor, a family friend, determines that his father had dodged a heart attack by a hair and advises that he should take the rest of the week off from work. It’s just Baekhyun’s luck that he causes his father to have a stroke the one time he decides to visit home.

Fortunately, the house is spacious enough that he can avoid his parents for the rest of his stay. Baekbeom had apparently left for his girlfriend’s, since Baekhyun hasn’t heard him around the house much after the disastrous dinner. Just to make sure, he tells the maid to bring his food to his room and only leaves it to go to the bathroom so he doesn’t bump into him by chance.

On his fourth day in the house, he decides to go out after his mother’s gone to bed. A forty-minute bus ride takes him to SoHo, where he alights at a stop that smells strongly of piss. From there, he walks a couple of blocks to a club he used to frequent before he moved to Brighton. The bouncer lets him in after paying his cover, giving him a wary look, like he was about to ask for his ID but decided he didn’t care in the end.

Inside he gets a vodka and dances with a guy he met at the bar. An hour of dancing and flirting and touching leaves Baekhyun pretty high in exhilaration. The man has pretty eyes, lined with kohl, and pretty lashes, that flutter at Baekhyun with intent, standing half-mast when he looks straight at him in an obvious sensuous way. And the way he dances, fluid and keen, even when he’s off-beat, reminds Baekhyun of Sehun for it has the same kind of fervor and spirit. Though he lacks his discipline and training, not to mention Sehun’s natural charisma and flair, that demands attention from any onlooker.

Sehun had barely slipped out of his thoughts ever since he arrived in London. And now he’s more present than ever, as the man leads Baekhyun outside with the promise of a quick smoke. When he turns back to throw him a sleazy grin over his shoulder, it’s Sehun he sees for a flash of a second.

There are groups of people outside talking, smoking, laughing loudly into the dead of night. The man hands Baekhyun a cigarette, a little wrinkled from his pocket, and makes sure to light it for him, holding his gaze intently the whole time.

“So, are you from London, pretty boy?” the man queries. Separated from the noise of the club, his voice is deeper than Baekhyun would have thought. “Something tells me you’re not from here.”

The man is obviously trying to make conversation, but Baekhyun could’ve rolled his eyes at the basic question.

“I’m originally from here,” Baekhyun answers, taking a drag from his cig. “But I’ve lived in Brighton the past two years.”

“Oh.” The single word is expelled in a thick cloud of smoke. “You’re here for the holidays? London ain’t the best place to spend Christmas, mind you.”

“No, it’s not,” Baekhyun agrees, laughing. “Even less with family… but you gotta do what you gotta do.”

“You know, I can read faces pretty well.” The man takes a step closer to Baekhyun. “And I can tell there’s something else on your mind.”

“Oh yeah?” Baekhyun takes a long drag without looking away from the man. “What is it?”

“Someone turned you down,” the man guesses, wagging his cigarette. “You’re here to forget about him. Crazy man, if you ask me. Who would reject someone as gorgeous as you?”

Baekhyun laughs, genuinely amused at the man. It’s a cheap attempt at flirting, but Baekhyun has needed a good laugh for days. “And what’re you going to do about that?”

“Well, I can think of a few things,” the man says, suggestive. “Let me take you to this charming little alley and I’ll show you.”

Baekhyun is only half-interested and half-bored when he accepts the man’s proposition. The alley turns out to be a stinking dumpster, that he doesn’t get to see much of, for he’s immediately pressed against the brick wall and kissed with intent. The man doesn’t hesitate to push his hand down Baekhyun’s pants, feeling him through his boxers to get him hard. Baekhyun can’t fully concentrate on the kiss; his mind is far away, on that morning in his flat, Sehun shirtless in his bed, his fingers in the waistband of his underwear and one of his legs set on Baekhyun’s crotch. The memory is way more arousing than the situation at hand. The man pulls at his lower lip with his teeth and Baekhyun thinks of Sehun’s soft mouth, the heat of his tongue, the sound of his moans, quiet and unreserved, sweet as a music note.

“Wait, I—” Baekhyun shoves the man back. The man stares at Baekhyun like he’s gone insane. “I’m sorry, I just—I can’t do this. I’m not—I can’t.”

“Alright,” the man grunts, holding up his hands. For a brief moment, Baekhyun thinks the man is going to punch him, for he catches the barely concealed anger dancing just out of his expression. “Fuck you, mate.”

The man storms out of the alley without another word. Baekhyun stands there for a while, trying to even out of his breathing, his heartrate, then he pushes off the wall to go back home.

Baekhyun holes up in his room for the following days, reading and listening to music, and overall avoiding interacting with his family. In part it is a childish attitude, he knows, but a terrible dread invades him at the prospect of facing his mother or brother—or even worse, his father.

The nightly outings stopped after the incident behind the club. For the remaining nights, he fell asleep watching a movie or stayed up reading and listening to music on his Walkman, or sometimes, when he was sure everyone went to sleep, he snuck out to the kitchen to steal food and video cassettes from the tv room. At the peak of his boredom, he’d gone for the only board game in his room, _Battleship_ , and he’d quickly felt dumb and lame for trying to play for two people.

Later that night, a bored Baekhyun ventures into the common area and steals several books without even checking their titles. His mother is the main reader in the house, so the books he brings with him range from romance novels to crime thrillers to biographies of obscure artists from the past century. _Persuasion_ is the first book he dives into, and Jane Austen has never been a favourite of his, but he’ll take what he can get to pass the long hours.

Some nights, when loneliness hits him, Baekhyun considers writing Sehun a letter. There isn’t a waking moment when he isn’t on his mind, entertaining scenarios of what he might be doing back in Brighton—his ballet classes, the cafe that sells his favourite hot chocolate, the bakery across his flat that makes a fantastic strawberry tart. Most of all, he misses his voice, the way it can make him feel better no matter what he says, and the comforting weight of his hand in his, the smell of his body. That scratchy old sweater he loves, the blue tartan scarf he wears everywhere. Baekhyun’s heart is heavier than it’s ever been and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

When he left Brighton, he’d told himself he wouldn’t contact Sehun, for he might create false hope for something that he’s not ready for. Yet, as the days go by, his conviction crumbles a little. More and more, his initial decision to turn down Sehun begins to seem silly, even laughable, given his current state without him. If there is something he’s learned during this trip, it’s that he’d grossly underestimated his feelings for his friend.

Eventually, he recalls that last night with Chanyeol, lying in bed with him, and the gentleness in his voice when he’d told Baekhyun what he’s known all along. _I think you already know the answers, but you just don’t want to admit them._

In the book he’s reading, the characters spend years separated because the lead was persuaded not to marry her lover. They never stop loving each other in the meantime, but when they meet again, neither is ready to move on from the past and acknowledge their feelings. The story is frustrating and cheesy; Baekhyun’s thoughts inadvertently wander to Sehun, so often, he has to go back to read the same paragraphs twice. It doesn’t escape him that the lead character’s conflictive emotions about her lost lover resonated with him and his own indecisiveness about Sehun.

Baekhyun was a stupid, stupid fool. But he was a fool undoubtably in love and sometimes people in love were stupid.

In the morning of Christmas Eve, Baekhyun awakens to a knock on his door. It’s on the second knock that he realizes it’s Baekbeom on the other side; he has a peculiar way of rasping his knuckles twice softly, followed by a final, louder rasp.

“Get dressed,” Baekbeom tells him, when he unlocks the door. “We’re going for a walk.”

Baekhyun takes less than five minutes to get dressed. It takes him ten on a regular day. But Baekbeom had looked grave and adamant, and Baekhyun had known better than to protest. 

It had snowed overnight and the streets are covered in white. Baekhyun hadn’t tied his shoes properly, so now he shuffles after Baekbeom, who has set off in a hurried pace on the sidewalk.

“What’s this about?” Baekhyun scampers to keep up with his brother. “Don’t tell me you just wanted some fresh air because it’s fucking freezing out here.”

“It’s about dad’s offer,” Baekbeom replies curtly. “Are you really going to turn your back on this?”

“Of course I will,” Baekhyun replies without missing a beat. “I can’t work at a company, Baekbeom. I couldn’t even tie my shoes properly. Do you think I’ll be fit to sit at meetings without messing up something important? They would kick me out.”

“Don’t you see how dad is? He almost died,” Baekbeom snaps back. “With this offer, you could not only make him happy, but you could live comfortably, you would have to hide… what you are, but at the expense of never having to worry about where your next paycheck will come from. And our parents would take you back. You would make them so happy.”

Baekhyun’s speechless for a long moment. His brother meets his gaze with conviction. Then the severity of his words hit him at last. He almost wants to laugh, because here Baekbeom is, telling him that, in order to be financially stable and welcomed back into the family, he should be willing to give up on his entire identity.

Baekhyun feels sick to his stomach.

“I won’t do that,” Baekhyun says resolutely. “Not in a million years, Baekbeom. I used to wonder if I should suck it up and come back, because, yes, I’ve had it rough since I left… but I can’t just give up on who I am for your sake—for mom and dad’s sake. How could that ever make me happy? Don’t you think people will eventually start wondering when I’ll get married?”

That clams Baekbeom up in an instant. He blinks at Baekhyun with his small, dark eyes, a perfect mirror of Baekhyun’s—but his gaze bespeaks of confusion and affliction. Their staring match ends when Baekbeom looks to the side, a mirthless smile etched on his mouth with the luster of realization.

“Right,” he says lowly, as if to himself. “You could turn into a liability. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“A liability?” Baekhyun echoes. A stunned laugh tails the words. “Are you for real? Is that what am I to you all?”

“Yeah, right now you are.” Baekbeom meets Baekhyun’s stare dead on. His face seems drained of any emotion. He has mastered the impersonalism of a businessman to a flawless degree. “And you will continue to be so as long as you refuse to be anyone else but who you are right now.”

“Fuck you, Baekbeom,” Baekhyun spits out. Baekbeom schools his face into perfect imperviousness. “I don’t want to hear from you or dad or anyone ever again.”

This time, when he walks out, it’s with a sort of liberation he hadn’t experienced the first time. He leaves Baekbeom standing there in the sidewalk to head back home and goes straight to his room to pack his bags.

As he’s dragging his luggage across the hallway, he finds his mother standing at the top of the stairs. She’s wearing a fitting bottle-green dress, her pearl earrings quavering as she walks towards him. She stops just a few steps ahead of him, not concealing the disappointment from her face at seeing him go.

“You’re not staying for Christmas?” she asks, calm and poised. It drives Baekhyun up the wall. “You could leave first thing in the morning. I’ll tell Mr. Park to drive you to the station.”

“No, mom, I’m leaving now,” Baekhyun says, though he does not move. “I can’t stay here any longer. I’m not going to be part of your little shitshow.”

His mother’s eyes close at his curse, mustering up patience. “It doesn’t mean you can’t stay here. You’re still part of this family, even if you don’t want to work for your father’s friend.”

“I know you’re just hoping I have a change of heart,” Baekhyun accuses. She doesn’t seem fazed. “But I won’t. I’ve already made up my mind.”

“What’re you going to do when you get older?” his mother asks harshly. “What are you going to do when you can’t pay your bills? When you can’t find a decent job without a college degree? If it’s not for you, then when you settle down—how are you going to give your family a good life?”

“Mom, I’m never going to get married,” Baekhyun reiterates. “I’ve told you before. I’m not like Baekbeom.”

“No, Baekhyun,” his mother refutes. “You are going to meet a nice girl—I’ll set you up! I’ll take you to this matchmaker I know and she’ll help us find you a pretty—”

“Mom, I’m gay!” Baekhyun blurts out. His mother freezes. “I’m a homosexual! A fucking pouf! I’m never going to date a nice girl, okay? So stop it, please.”

Baekhyun’s mother looks like he’s just struck her across the face. Her perfectly lipstick-painted mouth is parted and it closes only a beat later.

When she speaks, it’s with a chilling calmness that unnerves him. “Oh…” she says quietly. “I’ve known that for years.”

Just then, Baekbeom appears at the top of the stairs, seemingly nonplussed at the two of them standing in the hallway.

“How’d you know?” Baekhyun asks, stepping forward. “Did you tell her? That I am—”

“Do not say that word again!” his mother reproaches loudly, her gaze icy cold. “Don’t you dare say that word aloud here, where the maid can hear you. And no, I found out on my own. Don’t you think I could’ve guessed it from the things you liked, the places you frequented, the people you involved yourself with? And your brother, too. Or you don’t remember the mess you put him through because of your… deviancy?”

She says the last word with so much disgust, Baekhyun wants to curl into himself. Baekbeom looks on the scene with otherworldly indifference, his face not revealing an ounce of emotion that could share a glimpse into his thoughts.

“Mom…”

“And even after all that, we still wanted you in,” her mother plows on, “because it’s safer to have you here, under our own supervision, then out and about running with your kind.”

“What’re you going to do? Send me to a conversion camp?”

“You went away before we could do any of that,” his mother catches. “But no, we’re not going to do that now. You’re free to choose for yourself. But if you choose that life, just know that you’ll be out of our lives for good.”

Baekhyun swallows the lump in his throat and forces out a bitter smile. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, mother. I am out of here for good.”

Next, he grabs his bags and resumes his walking. His mother and brother stand and watch him leave. No word exchanged; no goodbyes spared.

When Baekhyun hails a taxi to be taken to the station, he’s still shaking head to toe from the argument. The adrenaline has drained out of his body, and all that’s left behind is a gaping void right in the center of his body, sucking every little bit of remaining energy.

It’s only when he’s in his train compartment, alone and comfortable, that he allows himself to cry. Then, he takes out Sehun’s letter from a book and reads it, over and over, until sleep finally claims him.

Snow is falling when Baekhyun arrives back in Brighton on a Thursday morning. A taxi takes him home from the station, where he finds Jongdae waiting in the sidewalk. He’d called him from the station. The relief that trickles through him at the sight of his best friend nearly brings him to tears.

“I guess it didn’t go so well,” Jongdae comments, “if you’re back earlier than expected.”

“It all went to shit,” Baekhyun declares, smiling wearily. “But hey, what are the holidays for?”

“Let’s get some food.” Making their way into Baekhyun’s building, Jongdae tugs him into a one-armed hug. “And then you can tell me everything.”

“I’d rather not,” Baekhyun responds, appeasing, “if that’s okay with you.”

“It’s cool.” Jongdae smiles back. “You’ll probably want to give your boy a call, he’s been looking like a lovesick puppy these past two weeks.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk about actually.” Baekhyun chances a glance at his friend. Jongdae rises his eyebrows, properly surprised, a smile dancing in his lips once he spies the look on Baekhyun.

“So you’ve made a choice, huh.” Jongdae pats Baekhyun’s back. “About time.”

Later that evening, Baekhyun walks into the pub with Jongdae, and immediately, he spots Chanyeol over at the bar, talking to a stranger. When they meet eyes, Chanyeol smiles, and immediately, Baekhyun knows he knows, and the thumbs up that he gives him in the second after is a confirmation.

And there he sees Sehun, standing against a wall, sipping a drink by himself. The boy is watching couples dancing idly, a sulky pull to his small mouth. Baekhyun smiles fondly at the sight.

“I’ll go look for the guys,” Jongdae says, clasping Baekhyun’s shoulder. “Good luck, mate.”

When Baekhyun walks up to him, Sehun notices him after a second. He gawks, eyes widened for a split second, like he’s seen a religious apparition in the middle of this bar.

“You’re here,” Sehun puffs out. “Why are you here?”

“I came back early.” Baekhyun’s grin displays his teeth. “I can leave, if you want.”

“No,” Sehun hastens to clarify. Baekhyun laughs lowly. “I’ve waited all week for…”

“I know,” Baekhyun says, knowing exactly what he means. As he meets Sehun’s eyes dead on, he drowns in all the pining that had consumed him in the days they were apart—and way before that. “Can I buy you another drink? Yours is almost empty.”

“What if we head out?” Sehun glances around. Baekhyun can tell he’s aiming to be casual. “I don’t feel like drinking anymore. We can find a quieter place to…”

“Cool,” Baekhyun says, every muscle in his body tensing. “Some peace and quiet would be nice right now.”

“Are you getting old for _Rainbow_?” Sehun taunts, as he follows Baekhyun to the door. He’s so close behind, his chest is hot on his back, his feet tailing his heels. “Though I gotta say, it hasn’t been the same these past two weeks.”

“Who’s the one growing it out?” Baekhyun jokes, and Sehun allows a smile that looks precious. “Anyway, I know everything is more fun when I’m around.”

“It is.” Sehun’s reply is low, like a secret. Whether by accident or design, the back of their hands brush when they push through the doors. Baekhyun thrums at the brief touch, wanting to feel so much more, and soon.

Gladly for Baekhyun, Sehun doesn’t probe about the reason for his early return—or why the first thing he did was going to Rainbow to find him. Baekhyun will tell him later. But surely, Sehun must have an inkling as to why, if only for the furtive glances he sends Baekhyun’s way when he thinks he’s not looking, charged with something akin to wonder.

They tread through streets covered in sleet. The roads are damp after the snowfall, the traffic lights glowing red and green over the wet tar. A few pedestrians march in opposite directions, escaping from the icy temperatures, but Sehun and Baekhyun are comfortable and close enough to fight off the cold. The electricity in the air is almost crackling within them at the expectation of what could happen. Baekhyun’s entire body thrums with it.

At his flat, Baekhyun only bothers to flick one light on. It’s off as soon as they take off their shoes and coats, by Sehun’s own doing.

“I don’t like this light at night,” Sehun explains. “It’s too harsh on my eyes.”

“Well, I’m not a bat,” Baekhyun jokes, his voice coming out as a rough whisper, “so you’ll have to lead me around.”

“Alright,” Sehun says, lacing their fingers. Baekhyun’s chest explodes with warmth at hearing Sehun’s laugh. “This is your living room.” Sehun stretches out an arm to hold the bead curtain in the doorway. “And this is your bedroom.”

“Thanks for the tour,” Baekhyun says, letting go of Sehun’s hand. “The heater isn’t working properly, it goes in and out, so we’ll probably have to…”

Sehun chuckles at the back of his throat. “Okay.”

Baekhyun grabs sweatpants from the floor and goes to the bathroom, but it occurs to him he could change right there. So he unzips his jeans, right in front of Sehun, and slips into his sweatpants. The whole time he’s aware of Sehun’s eyes on him, and when he looks up it’s to meet them straight on, Sehun’s gaze dark and wanting, pulling a painful sort of yearning in Baekhyun’s guts.

“Are you going to change?”

“I’ll sleep in my underwear,” Sehun murmurs. “Like always.”

“Right,” Baekhyun says. “Bathroom.”

They tumble into the bathroom bumping elbows. Sehun picks up with a smile the toothbrush that Baekhyun keeps for him in the sink. It’s such a small gesture, but it means so much right now, in the scope of things.

Baekhyun washes his face, Sehun brushes his teeth, and they slip together under the covers. Baekhyun’s feet are cold, so he rubs them against Sehun, who laughs and whines, but doesn’t push him away.

“How are your feet always so cold?” Sehun feigns a full-body shudder. “Your toes would just shrivel and fall off if you didn’t have me to warm them up.”

“I’d just get thicker socks,” Baekhyun rebuts. “But it’s better when you warm them up.”

In the dark, Sehun’s eyes are bright and hopeful. Baekhyun’s chest tightens. His breath is fresh peppermint between them and his skin is soft moonlight. Baekhyun grabs his hands under the covers to bring them to his mouth and Sehun gasps when his lips touch the back of them.

“Your hands are cold,” Baekhyun whispers. Sehun gulps and Baekhyun fixates on the movement of his adam’s apple for a second.

“Baekhyun…” Sehun sighs. “Your hands are always so soft. I like them.”

“I like your hands,” Baekhyun says. “And everything else about you, too.”

One of Sehun’s hands sneaks into the curve of Baekhyun’s hips to bring him closer, impossibly closer, so his legs fit between his own. Baekhyun wets his lips, just as he feels the sweet warmth of Sehun’s breath on them. Baekhyun’s heart is racing a mile a minute.

“That’s so corny,” Sehun mocks, a whisper nearly lost in the dying distance. Baekhyun’s laugh is swallowed by Sehun’s lips, his body molding into his, chests flushed together. Sehun tastes of peppermint and yearning and happiness and everything Baekhyun has wanted for too long packed into one person.

Baekhyun’s lips are chapped from the cold, but Sehun licks them, the tip of his tongue tracing their shape and slipping past his mouth once Baekhyun yields access. Sehun slips cold fingers under his shirt, tracing his stomach over to his waist, and Baekhyun shivers, from the cold, from elation. Sehun is shaking as well, and his heart thuds steady and strong, when Baekhyun drags his hand across his pectorals to settle over his jaw. Sehun’s leg rubs between Baekhyun’s, shy of his dick, and Baekhyun trembles with exhilaration at the thought that Sehun’s is nearly naked below the waist if not for his boxers.

Sehun drops kisses over his chin and cheek when they separate, much like he’d done last time, as if he didn’t want to ever be parted with Baekhyun’s skin. This time, Baekhyun giggles, elated and thrilled, and so, so happy. When he looks, Sehun’s beaming smile must mirror his own.

“So, I guess you made your choice,” Sehun whispers, pressing his thumb to Baekhyun’s chin. “Or am I reading things wrong?”

“No,” Baekhyun replies, setting hands over the crest of Sehun’s chest. “I… I’m sorry for taking so long.”

“Better late than ever,” Sehun jokes, and Baekhyun smiles, leaning to kiss the smile off his lips.

Baekhyun’s hands aren’t shy to roam over Sehun’s body, what isn’t covered by his shirt at least, and one of his hands goes to settle over the curve of his lower back. Sehun’s ass has driven Baekhyun crazy for months, and now he can touch all he wants. Suddenly, Sehun takes ahold of one of his hands and pushes it against the waistband of his underwear.

Baekhyun breaks away with a slight gasp to look into Sehun’s eyes for confirmation. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Sehun whispers, stealing a kiss. “I want to.”

“Okay,” is Baekhyun’s reply, expelled in a sigh. He leans in to capture Sehun’s mouth, soft and tender, at the same time he strokes Sehun over the material of his boxers. Sehun sighs into his mouth, his eyes nearly shut, remaining focused on Baekhyun.

When he finally slips past the waistband, he pulls at Sehun’s bottom lip with his teeth delicately, just to quiet his moans at the first touch of his hand on his skin. Sehun jerks forward, clasping Baekhyun’s shoulders, as Baekhyun grips his dick and begins a slow, gentle motion with his fingers; first, mapping its shape, its texture, then taking control of it, sensing how Sehun likes to be touched.

At the second time Sehun’s hips jolt, Baekhyun lowers his boxers the rest of the way, shoving them past his knees with his toes. Baekhyun wants to push back the covers to take a better look, but he doesn’t want to interrupt their flow. Sehun’s hot and heavy in his fist, and he tightens his hold a tad, just to feel Sehun trembling.

Moving his fist faster, Baekhyun kisses Sehun again, more insistent, fervent, swallowing all the pretty noises that keep falling from his mouth. Sehun is arching into him, their chests nearly flushed together, his entire body shuddering, thrumming with pleasure. Baekhyun has the sudden urge to tell Sehun to forget it all, his inhibitions, and fuck him senseless—but he remembers that he wants to take it slow for him, for both of them.

Baekhyun kisses down his cheeks, his nose, his jaw, when it’s evident Sehun is too lost to kiss him. A whine rises from the back of Sehun’s throat, needy in pitch, when Baekhyun nibbles on his neck. The rest of Sehun squirms, clawing at Baekhyun’s shirt, and as his orgasm looms near, the noises grow in volume and desperation.

Baekhyun draws back to admire the view. Sehun like this, helpless, aching, is a sight to behold; his cheeks have a dark hue, tufts of hair pasted to his forehead, pretty mouth gaping and panting. It all sets Baekhyun ablaze, his head hazy with the sounds, the sensations—if he were to touch himself, it would likely take him little to come.

“Fuck, Sehun,” he hears himself whisper. The unconcealed reverence in it pries Sehun’s eyes open to a slit. “You’re so beautiful.”

Sehun chants over and over, “Baekhyun.” His arms bolt vice-like around his neck. Baekhyun laps into Sehun’s mouth, hastening his motion until he is moaning unreservedly into the space between them.

“C’mon, Sehunnie,” Baekhyun whispers, “are you going to come for me?”

Sehun squeezes his eyes shut, nodding his head obediently. It’s all Baekhyun needs. He lets go of Sehun and sneaks under the covers, stopping when he’s eye level with Sehun’s crotch. He takes Sehun into his mouth, sucking, moving, holding Sehun’s hips down with one hand. Above, Sehun’s moans have grown louder, desperate, and then he’s coming, Baekhyun swallowing it all with ease.

“Oh my fucking god,” Sehun pants, head thrown back over the pillow. Baekhyun sets his chin on his navel, staring up at him with adoring eyes. “That was fucking incredible.”

“Thanks,” Baekhyun quips, voice rough. “I’ve heard I give great head.”

Sehun looks down, a glow to his smile that makes Baekhyun grin wider. “That was beyond great.” He paws at Baekhyun’s shoulders weakly. Getting the hint, he crawls upwards to settle over his chest. Like this, he can kiss him again, sweet and measured, just to taste each other. Sehun is malleable, pliant, a goofy smile set so firmly that Baekhyun has to kiss around his closed mouth.

“It’s weird.” Sehun flicks Baekhyun’s bangs aside with a finger. “I thought this would be awkward for us. Since we’ve been friends for so long… but I guess it’s because I’ve wanted you just as long.”

“I feel the same way,” Baekhyun retorts, dropping a kiss to Sehun’s chin. In fact, he hadn’t stopped to contemplate the situation while he was jerking Sehun off. Nor the first time they kissed. It all felt natural, for he’d had been fantasizing about touching Sehun for so long.

Chanyeol walks into the record store wearing a shit-eating grin that Baekhyun scowls at the next morning.

“How’d it go last night?”

“I’m not going to tell you,” Baekhyun says. “I’m a gentleman. I don’t kiss and tell.”

“So, it went well, huh.” Chanyeol whistles. “You did a really shitty job of covering up those bruises on your neck.”

Baekhyun smirks, pulling on the turtleneck to reveal more skin. He’d looked at the bruises in the mirror that morning, smiling at his reflection, then pushed Sehun to the kitchen wall to put the same bruises on his neck.

“Well, you should see the other guy.”

“I did, actually,” Chanyeol says. “I saw him in class today. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Sehun smile that much ever. It was kind of scary, but I’m happy for you both. It was about damn time.”

“Chanyeol, thanks for being so cool about us,” Baekhyun says in a single breath. “We had a lot of fun.”

Baekhyun can’t say he won’t miss Chanyeol. Chanyeol _and_ his dick. They had pretty good times together, he and that dick; a wistful sigh drifts out of him at the thought of saying goodbye to it.

“We did,” Chanyeol says, sharing his smile. “A great song could come out of this.”

A laugh breaks out of Baekhyun. Of course Chanyeol would use this for a song. “I’m not letting you write about my dick, you pervert.”

After work, Baekhyun goes home to clean up a bit before Sehun gets there. Unsurprisingly, Sehun arrives at nine sharp, bearing Chinese take-out and a bottle of wine.

“So fancy.” Baekhyun’s grin is smarmy. “It almost feels like a date.”

Doubt paints the slope of Sehun’s brows. “It isn’t…?”

Baekhyun has never been on a date before. It’s always been rough, slick men in the dark corners at clubs, in bathroom stalls, backstage rooms. No meals in four-star restaurants, white cloth and tea candles on the table. Not even a McDonalds meal. Nerves seize him mercilessly whenever he treads strange, uncharted territories, but he quickly reminds himself that he isn’t cruising alone—Sehun is with him. They’ve had dinner countless times before. Nothing really has changed, except now he can steal a kiss whenever he pleases. And that’s exactly what he does to smooth out the uneasiness reflected on Sehun.

“Of course it is,” Baekhyun says with a low chuckle. “In your letter you said it’d be an honor if I was your boyfriend.”

“I did.” Sehun presents him a mellifluous smile. “And I meant it, but if labels make you uncomfortable…”

“It was the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me,” Baekhyun carries on, determined. Every word drips with honey, and his old self would cringe at this, but his present self doesn’t care at all. Especially with the way Sehun sparks up like a firework. “Because nobody has ever wanted to, you know, take me out and stuff.”

“You’ve told me that before.” Sehun’s frown lines spell incredulity. It makes Baekhyun want to giggle. “And I can’t believe that, to be honest.” He cradles Baekhyun’s hands gently, blinking down at them. “It may sound corny, but you’re beautiful. I can’t imagine people not seeing that.”

In the rare times like this, when he’s particularly bashful, Sehun’s old lisp slips out. It endears, and _moves_ , Baekhyun immensely, the sincerity in Sehun’s voice all the more. “People have tried to own me,” he reveals. “But not by the traditional ways. More like a… sex kind of thing. When they realize they can’t have me, they either give up or just keep me around to fuck once in a while.”

Admittedly, he’d enjoyed every bit of it. But he’s been discovering in the past days a certain easiness, a gentle comfort to dating—being a part of something, _someone_ —that made all of that pale in comparison. Or perhaps, it’s just that he happens to be dating his best friend.

“Well, I’m not trying to own you. You don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be.” Sehun kisses his knuckles. “I just want to make you happy.”

Baekhyun beams, full to the brim with adoration and gratefulness. Standing on his toes, he places his palms over Sehun’s ears to kiss his forehead and the tip of his nose. “Thank you for everything. And the food.”

“You’re welcome.” Sehun’s smile is generous and ample, and it tastes just as cloying when he inclines to claim Baekhyun’s mouth. The kiss is deliberate, tender, and Baekhyun labors to prolong it. In the midst of it, something dawns on Baekhyun, and he jerks back with a gasp.

“I forgot!” Baekhyun dashes to his room, the bead curtain swishing behind him. “I bought you a present!”

“A Christmas present?”

“Yeah, since we didn’t see each other during Christmas,” Baekhyun tells him, pulling the wrapped present from under his bed, “I didn’t get to give it to you.”

“Baekhyun, you shouldn’t have,” Sehun chides him from the living room. It’s all a show—Baekhyun can tell from the measured pitch, like he’s trying to calibrate his tone. “We said we wouldn’t give each other anything…”

“But I wanted to get you something.” The look of pure shock on Sehun when Baekhyun exits his bedroom with the present is definitely worth the money. It shifts to completely mystified, the joy of a child on Christmas morning, when he receives the gift. Baekhyun laughs, bouncing in his spot, barely able to contain his excitement. “C’mon, open it!”

Sehun tears the paper apart without ceremony, smiling with barely contained delight. His eyes grow comically wide when he sees what’s inside, flicking to Baekhyun in evident bewilderment. “You got me…”

“Yeah, we just got it at the store,” Baekhyun says. “I immediately thought of you.”

“Thank you.” Sehun clutches the Fleetwood Mac record to his chest. “I was thinking of buying it when I got my allowance.”

“Now you don’t have to,” Baekhyun returns. Sehun is wearing that smile that puffs up his cheeks, and Baekhyun, unable to help himself, climbs into his lap to cup his face tenderly. “That’s what boyfriends are for, huh.”

“Guess so,” Sehun huffs out a little laugh. Sehun traces his thighs to his waist, and back again, when Baekhyun kisses him, thorough and wanting. Baekhyun doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of kissing Sehun; every time there’s something new to love about the action itself, the shape of his lips, the sweet sighs he can pluck out of him with his tongue, the way he lets Baekhyun lead and takes the lead when he’s really feeling it. It all makes Baekhyun want to kiss Sehun for hours and hours on end. 

Sometime later, when they’re listening to the album on the living room floor, Baekhyun’s record player on full volume, Baekhyun is playing invisible keys over his sternum with his fingers, already noting down the keys in his head. 

“Who taught you how to play the piano?” Sehun asks, out of nowhere.

“My brother’s friend.” Baekhyun chances a glances at him. “In high school. He was really good at it.”

“If he taught you to play like that,” Sehun says, “he must’ve been very good.”

“Shut up.” Baekhyun shoves him lightly. Sehun rolls onto his side and lays a hand over his stomach. He’s studying Baekhyun with that guarded look that discloses nothing. “I had a piano teacher when I was a kid, but he moved, and I only decided to try it again in high school. Changmyung lived nearby so my mom convinced his mom to give me lessons twice a week.”

“Did you like him?”

Of course Sehun would pick up on that from the get-go. “He was my first crush on a man.” Baekhyun’s little grin is rueful. “He could’ve been my first boyfriend, but…”

“It’s okay,” Sehun rushes to soothe him. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Baekhyun fits his fingers between the slots of Sehun’s hand. An unvoiced assurance.

“My brother found us,” Baekhyun goes on. “Whenever he came over, he used to teach me to play on my mom’s piano, and one afternoon I kissed him. We started hanging out for a while after that, just… trying it out. Neither of us had that much experience. And one day, we were making out outside a store…”

“Your brother caught you,” Sehun butts in knowingly.

“Baekbeom beat the shit out of him.” Baekhyun’s laugh is mirthless and awful. “Since then, it was like my old brother was gone and replaced by this other man who was cold and disdainful. I thought he still had an ounce of consideration for me, but I found out over the holidays that he had told my parents everything after all.”

Baekhyun takes the chance to tell Sehun everything that happened during his short trip to London. His father’s offer. The stroke. His mother’s flat-out rejection.

Through it all, Sehun listens, his palm rubbing his stomach a quiet solace. At some point in the story, Sehun’s jaw tightens, his motions faltering and reaching a complete halt.

“That’s awful,” Sehun murmurs. “I can’t imagine what that must be like…”

Baekhyun closes his eyes. In Sehun’s consoling tone, he can hear a note of sadness like a particular scent in a fragrance.

“When I decided I wouldn’t go to college,” Baekhyun recounts, “that’s when he finally stopped talking to me. It was like a relief to him, really. My parents were angry, but for me, what was worse was that Baekbeom turned his back on me because of all people I always thought he’d have my back.”

“I don’t like your brother,” Sehun announces. Drawing Baekhyun closer by his waist, he buries his face in his neck. “Anyone who makes you feel like crap…”

“I think you’d like him,” Baekhyun remarks with a lighthearted laugh. “He’s nice and funny and smart, when he wants to be. I just… disappointed him.”

“It’s shitty of him to turn his back on you just because you turned out to be different from who he thought you were.” Sehun scratches Baekhyun’s head and Baekhyun closes his eyes when his view becomes wobbly. “You can’t give people love if it’s conditional. That’s not how it works.” ~~~~

“How are you such a grownup?” Baekhyun lets out a wavering laugh, damp at the fringes. “You’re supposed to be younger than me, and here you’re sounding so mature…”

“I am mature,” Sehun asserts, playful. Since Baekhyun can’t see it, he imagines Sehun’s eyes must have that familiar mischievous glint. “That’s why I always let you win at air hockey.”

“I knew it!” Baekhyun tickles Sehun along the ribs. Sehun writhes in a laughing fit until he manages to break free. “I knew you let me win!”

“Stop it!” Sehun squeals cheerily. Laughter has made his eyes watery. Seeing this kind of careless happiness playing out in Sehun comes next to nothing. And in turn, it washes the loneliness that had holed Baekhyun’s chest. “I’m going to win next time just because of this!”

_Everywhere_ is the soundtrack to the scene. The pure bliss that encapsulates this moment will be a companion to this song every time he hears it in the future.

“Sehunnie,” Baekhyun whines, pouting. Sehun peers at him, beaming, then places his palm over Baekhyun’s face to push him away. Baekhyun licks at it and Sehun jolts away with a shriek that makes them both laugh hysterically.

“Is that me?”

Sehun taps a doodle in his notebook of a deadpanned poodle. Baekhyun bumps shoulders with him.

“Maybe.” Baekhyun’s grin is sly. “The doodle is cuter.”

Sehun sulks childishly, pretty pink lips puckered. Baekhyun chuckles, pinching his cheek, and switching to poking his side when Sehun doesn’t acknowledge him.

They’re in Chanyeol’s garage. Their rehearsal that afternoon had inadvertently transformed into a small get together when Irene and Jongdae arrived with a group of their mutual friends and acquaintances. So now they are sitting on the floor drinking Chanyeol’s beer and passing around a bong, courtesy of Jongdae, and playing with some of the crap lying around the garage. As far as Baekhyun can tell, through a quick scan of the room, nobody is paying attention to them.

“Don’t touch me!” Sehun tries to bat his hands away, but in doing so, Baekhyun falls over him, putting his arm over his shoulders. He leans in and whispers in his ear, “That’s not what you said last night.”

“God, _shut up_.” Sehun lets out a sound similar to a groan halfway through a laugh. He swats his hands weakly over Baekhyun’s thighs. “You’re so corny.”

“But you like it!” Baekhyun bounces back. Sehun shakes his head petulantly, then jabs his fingernail into Baekhyun’s chin. It hadn’t dawned on him how close they were sitting; Baekhyun’s distracted by Sehun’s deep brown eyes, and a little lower, the rosy plushness of his lips.

It comes naturally at this point, the need to touch each other. Baekhyun has been dying to kiss him for hours, and it appears Sehun shares his craving, judging by the yearning dancing in his irises.

Baekhyun has to remind himself to glance away. Kissing Sehun in a room full of their friends is the last thing he wants. The only ones who know about their relationship are Jongdae and Chanyeol so far, and he’d like to keep it that way for now. It’s not like he wants them to stay in the dark forever, but it’s been so good so far, he wants to keep this little thing that makes him so, so happy from the rest of the world for a little longer.

“So, I have a question.” Irene speaks loudly to be heard above all conversations. The space quietens when somebody lowers the volume in the boombox in the corner. “When are you lovebirds going to tell us the news?”

Baekhyun whips around to gawk at her. Sehun is wide-eyed, seemingly speechless. A dozen pair of eyes fall on them, all sporting a somewhat identical version of a leer.

“What—”

“Oh, c’mon!” Amber waves a hand. “We figured it out like two weeks ago. We’ve just been waiting for you to slip and out yourselves. So to speak.”

“I have no idea why you’d even hide it from us,” Seulgi says, “when you guys have been acting like a couple for months now. It was about time you moved on to fucking.”

“That’s not what it is.” Baekhyun glowers at his friend, who only responds with a set of incredulous raised brows. “We’re proper dating.”

Sehun has gone very still next to him. Baekhyun’s ears are burning. Irene’s high ponytail flutters when she cocks her head with an air of skepticism, though it belies the endearment in the curl of her lips.

“Alright,” Jongin pipes in, “does that not involved proper shagging then?”

“Everyone, zip it,” Jongdae says. “I’ve already submitted them to enough torture already. You’re both late and lame.”

“Thank you,” Baekhyun tells him. “And anyways, it’s none of your business, but I’m glad to know I can make out with Sehun in front of you now.”

“Please, be my guest.” A skinny guy, named Kibum, exaggerates a yawn. “It’s getting so boring without the booze.”

In a boisterous laugh, Baekhyun releases some of the nervous energy that’d built up inside him for the past five minutes. “As much as I’d like to make out with my boyfriend now,” he stands from the floor, “I think I’ll go with Seulgi to buy the booze.”

The trip to the liquor store is unsettlingly silent. Baekhyun can sense something is up.

“So, you and Sehun,” Seulgi says, at last. “Are you for real?”

Nervousness seeps into his laugh. “Yeah, for real. Why?”

“I mean, it’s just that you never…” Seulgi hesitates a moment, tugging at her pink pencil skirt. The assortment of bracelets around her wrist tinkle. “You’re not the dating type and he’s such a sweetheart... I just wouldn’t like to see him heartbroken, that’s all.”

Baekhyun studies his friend. Seulgi’s usual kindly stare is pinning Baekhyun down now, incisive, and a little recriminatory.

The doubt stings, for sure, but he knows better than to take offense; Seulgi has been privy to all his years of sexcapades with the dude of the week. Hell, Baekhyun had the same doubts about himself. The more time he spends with Sehun, however, the more he realizes there’s no one else he’d rather be with. It’s that easy.

He normally wouldn’t explain himself to anybody else, but Seulgi is his friend, who knows him best. She just wants his assurance.

“I won’t break his heart,” Baekhyun says. “Believe me. I just want to make him happy. _He_ makes me happy.”

The candor in his voice is uncalibrated and embarrassing—Baekhyun _hates_ to be this vulnerable, but he means each word. Seulgi catches on his sincerity, because a relieved smile thaws the wariness in her gaze.

“Alright, that’s enough for me.”

Seulgi’s tone hints at an _or else…_ that tears genuine laughter out of Baekhyun.

“I hope to see you as happy as I am right now one of these days.”

Baekhyun wiggles his eyebrows over an impish grin. Seulgi rolls her eyes tiredly.

“I think you’ll have to wait for a while.” Seulgi shakes her head. “Irene is the densest person I know—she wouldn’t know somebody likes her if they shouted it at her face. She can catch on other people screwing in secret, but not her best friend crushing on her for months.”

“Irene is terribly shy.” Baekhyun hugs her shoulders. “But you gotta keep trying.”

He puts her in a headlock to ruffle her hair. Seulgi pushes him off, groaning in annoyance.

“You’re such a menace.” Her smile betrays her. Baekhyun hugs her middle when they resume walking. “Let’s go get the booze before someone comes looking for us.”

“Let’s get fucking wasted!” 

“This sounds good,” Baekhyun determines for the third time in an hour. “It sounds better than it did last week.”

“See, I told you it needed some tweaking.” Chanyeol’s smile is self-satisfied. Baekhyun allows it because he’s right. “It’s better now.”

“All thanks to me.” Baekhyun grins smugly while Chanyeol chuckles. “And now I have to meet up with Sehun. He’s taking me somewhere…”

“Oh.” Chanyeol waggles his brows. “A date?”

“Sounds like it,” Baekhyun says, shrugging. It feels less weird saying it aloud than he thought. Probably because it’s Chanyeol, who has no problems with it, but it’s also because Baekhyun doesn’t stop to analyze the relationship as much as he used to anymore. “He told me to dress semi-formal for it. Dunno where he’s taking me, though.”

“Maybe it’s a fancy restaurant,” Chanyeol chirps. “With all the forks and little spoons and shit.”

“Maybe,” Baekhyun laughs, packing his notebook in his backpack. “Or maybe it’s just the movies or something. Who knows. It doesn’t matter because—”

“You’re with Sehun?” Chanyeol’s leer is infuriating. Also somewhat scary. “Is that what you were going to say? You, who hates all sappy, romantic things?”

Baekhyun turns hot in a flash. “I was going to say that it didn’t matter because I’m not picky, so anywhere is okay.”

“Sure.” Chanyeol plucks random strings on his guitar. “Good luck, anyway.”

“Thanks, douchebag,” Baekhyun says, as he leaves. “See you tomorrow.”

Sehun is waiting by the bus stop, facing the road. The evening traffic is starting to pick up. The sun is dipping behind the buildings, the orange glow diffusing Sehun’s sharp features and drowning out his outline. It looks like a scene straight out of a teen romcom; Baekhyun has to shove his hands into his pockets so as to not jump at him, throw his arms over his shoulders and kiss him with the crowd of high school students and street vendors watching.

“Hey there, handsome,” Baekhyun calls out, when he approaches. “Are you alone?”

Sehun spins around, surprise quickly melting into a tender smile. “Hey,” he greets softly, “I didn’t hear you.”

He walks over to Baekhyun and tugs on the lapels of his jacket lightly with two of his fingers. It has the same energy as a kiss in Baekhyun’s mind. It’s good to know he’s not alone in his desires.

“I’m silent but deadly,” Baekhyun jokes. Sehun chortles, lovely crescent eyes appearing. “So, we’re taking the bus there?”

“Yup, I didn’t want you to make the trek alone.” Sehun’s grin is jovial. “You could get lost.”

“I’m not a child.” Baekhyun mock glowers as Sehun laughs. “I can follow instructions perfectly, thank you very much.”

Just then their bus arrives at the stop. They get on and sit two seats from the back. There’s only an old lady sitting in the other row and a middle-aged woman and two kids behind them, so minutes into the ride, Sehun holds Baekhyun’s hand over their joined thighs and releases it only after more people get on the ride.

They alight downtown in an area Baekhyun knows because the local library is there. Sehun leads the way, and Baekhyun doesn’t have the faintest idea of where they’re going until he spots the ballet poster in the entrance to the hall.

“A ballet show?” Baekhyun looks to Sehun for confirmation. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Sehun’s mouth is a straight line. “I wanted it to be a surprise. We’ve been to gigs before, but not something like this… I didn’t know if you’d like it.”

A little unsure quiver makes it into his voice. He’s angled his head to the right, a rosy hue coloring his cheekbones like a sunset. Baekhyun is struck with such a surge of fondness he can merely contain within his frame.

“I’ve never been to a ballet performance before,” Baekhyun says. “But I’m curious to see what’s the deal all about… I’ve heard there’s lots of men in tights.”

Sehun’s eyes narrow with mischief, at the same time his lips quirk. “I’ll keep you focused on the show. It’s going to blow your mind.”

They make their way across the hall, standing close, so their coats brush together. A crowd has gathered near the doors. They stand at the fringes to avoid the trampling of people when the doors open.

“I think I’ll like it.” Baekhyun clutches three of his fingers as the crowd begins to move. “Not as much as I like watching you dance, though.”

Sehun ducks his head to bury a bashful grin. The tips of his ears are a lovely red. Something swells inside Baekhyun, pressing at his ribs like a balloon. In the relative darkness, he doesn’t let go of Sehun until they find their seats in the audience.

Sehun makes good of his promise: the show does blow Baekhyun’s mind. It’s an adaptation of _Swan Lake,_ some of its pieces familiar to Baekhyun _._ His initial detachment vanishes some minutes into the first act, and by its finale, when the ballerina, transformed into a maiden, breaks from a flock of swans to dance with the prince—a _paus de deux_ , Sehun supplies in a whisper—Baekhyun is completely hooked. The main dancers are captivating, gliding and soaring across the stage undaunted by gravity, in possession of a remarkable deftness, and a more notable skill to translate the emotions of the story into the movements.

Baekhyun doesn’t shut up about it after they exit the hall and Sehun suggests they grab some food. There’s a light in Sehun’s gaze that grips Baekhyun’s attention, the kind of shine that brightens his whole mien whenever he’s excited about something he loves. Throughout dinner, Baekhyun can’t keep his eyes off him.

During the trip back home, Baekhyun isn’t sure if he should alight at his flat. But Sehun holds onto his hand, as if reading his thoughts, and engages him in conversation during the ride so Baekhyun lets him take the lead.

At Sehun’s flat, Baekhyun is pushed against the wall of the foyer first thing, Sehun chasing his mouth with the desperation of a dying man. The lights are off, so all of Baekhyun’s remaining senses are tuned to Sehun, his mouth, his scent, his hands sneaking under his shirt. The other clutches his face as if afraid he’ll go away. One of his legs is snug between his thighs, and Baekhyun ruts against it unconsciously, his jeans feeling suddenly tight.

“Sehun,” Baekhyun pants against his mouth, “I think we need to stop.”

“Why?” Sehun licks a long stripe over his jaw. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you since I first saw you at the bus stop today.”

“I just don’t want to—” Baekhyun groans as Sehun sucks on his neck. “I just thought we were going to take things slow.”

Sehun pulls away abruptly to stare at Baekhyun like he’s gone crazy. “Why the fuck would we do that?” It takes a beat and Baekhyun bursts into rapturous laughter. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse like that,” Baekhyun responds, between peals of laughter. “Or make that face before.”

“Alright, I just…” Sehun pauses as Baekhyun’s laughter ebbs away. “I just really want this to happen, but if you don’t…”

“I do,” Baekhyun reassures him. “I just don’t want this to be about sex. All my relationships and non-relationships have revolved around sex. And you’re special to me. So I thought we could just… wait.”

Sehun’s smile is loving, instant, but the sigh he expels is comically weary. Baekhyun feels like a very dense child. “Baekhyun, I know I’m special to you,” he says, cradling his face, “because you’re special to me, as well. But I want this. And I want you as much as I want your dick inside me.”

The insinuation in his words coils around his guts, yanking hard, so Baekhyun’s left a little breathless. “Alright.”

Sehun kisses him again, with more zeal, pulling Baekhyun’s zipper down and unbuttoning his jeans in tandem. When he breaks away, his gaze is stanch and lustful, and Baekhyun’s want is burning him from the inside.

“Anything else to add?”

“I said—”

Only after the second word, Sehun takes ahold of his hand to lead him to the bedroom. Inside, he wastes no time in ridding himself of his button-down. Baekhyun pouts at the garment discarded on the floor. “I wanted to take that off. It’s not sexy if you do it yourself.”

The view of Sehun’s chiseled abs quickly steals his attention. Sehun moves towards Baekhyun in quick strides and muffles a chuckle into a kiss. Barely a beat passes for Sehun to tug at the hem of Baekhyun’s sweater, insistently, until he gets the hint and pulls away to let him take the garment off him. Next are his jeans, which Sehun keeps pushing down by one thumb at the waistband.

In their underwear, they crawl into bed, Sehun on top of Baekhyun. It is hard to remember it’s the midst of winter outside. Sehun’s skin is soft and warm and perfect, and Baekhyun wants to trace it like his favorite books. He rubs over his thighs, firm and wiry, as Sehun claims his mouth, stealing his breath and giving it back to him over and over. Sehun pushes his hips down, moving slowly but deliberately, until Baekhyun is moaning into the kiss. The sound Sehun makes when Baekhyun kneads his ass to guide him makes his head spin.

“We need to get rid of these.” Sehun slips two fingers under the band of Baekhyun’s underwear and snaps it against his skin. Baekhyun laughs, slapping his arm in retaliation, and Sehun kisses him to placate.

“I don’t know,” Baekhyun teases. “I’m a bit of a shy boy.” A tremble breaks the end note of his sentence and Baekhyun covers for it with a chuckle. It’s not normal for him to be this nervous about sleeping with someone; this very fact makes him even more anxious, unprepared. Sehun knows him like the palm of his own hand, he must’ve noticed how nervous he is already, by the way he lingers over his face in watchful silence.

“You weren’t so shy when you walked around half naked in front of me before we started dating.”

“Because I knew you liked staring at me.” To hide his own anxious heart, he fishes for a kiss, slow-burn, yet it doesn’t lead to anything more than placating butterflies. Sehun slips three fingers under the waistband of his underwear, and when Baekhyun doesn’t resist, he scoots back to pull it down over his thighs completely.

After so many have seen it, Baekhyun has never been shy about his body, but right there, in Sehun’s room, shyness does get to him as his curious eyes wander over his nakedness. A hunger seeps into his dark irises, bleeding out into his palms trailing over his body, in a clear quest to trace every inch of it.

“You’re beautiful,” Sehun tells him, looking straight into his eyes. It feels like the bottom of Baekhyun’s stomach has dropped to his feet. No one has ever told him such a thing, wrapped up in such sincerity and adoration—not without a misguided agenda in mind, at least. It makes him speechless for a long moment, and then Baekhyun is kissing him, just as earnestly and fervently as Sehun’s touches are.

As if an afterthought, Sehun shimmies out of his own underwear, kicking them off the bed with a jerk of his foot. Baekhyun didn’t think it could be possible, but his mouth positively waters at the sight of Sehun’s dick, springing free and curving over his thigh. It’s already hard, red and slick, painting a stark contrast over his pale skin.

“Woah,” Baekhyun says, despite himself. Sehun looks at him, then he laughs, his cheeks growing red. “I mean—I didn’t—”

“It’s alright,” Sehun assures him. A shaky sigh leaves him. “I like your dick, too.”

“Are we going to measure dicks now?” Baekhyun sounds high-pitched and awful to his own ears. Sehun licks his lips as he pushes Baekhyun’s legs apart. “Because I don’t think I’m going to win with you.”

Sehun spurts out a laugh, closing his eyes, and he pauses to press his cheek to the inside of Baekhyun’s thigh. It tickles where his nose presses to his skin. Baekhyun squirms with a giggle. “This isn’t sexy at all.”

“It isn’t,” Baekhyun agrees blithely. The sight of Sehun laughing could never bother him in a million years. “But you are. You’re sexy as hell.”

Sehun smiles fondly, tracing fingers over the inside of Baekhyun’s thigh. A kiss stamps itself there. Moving ahead, Sehun lifts his leg, dropping more kisses to every newfound patch of skin. Baekhyun sighs, the air trembling as it escapes him. Sehun splays his fingers over Baekhyun’s hips, and finally captures his mouth, slithering and curling in his tongue.

The kiss is short, not nearly enough to quench Baekhyun’s thirst. Sehun leans back on his hunches, looking over Baekhyun like a painter assessing his masterpiece.

“This is going to sound weird but,” Sehun says, and his voice _wavers_ , “sometimes I wondered if your dick was as pretty as the rest of you.”

“Fuck,” Baekhyun utters, the word teetering over a breath. The desire drowns it out. Sehun’s nervous. It makes him feel a little more secure, more relieved that he isn’t alone in this. “Well, sometimes I wondered if your dick was as big as you are and I gotta say I’m not disappointed.”

Sehun lets out an amused stream of air through his nose. Baekhyun isn’t used to this, taking so long to get to it, but it’s not bad, because it’s Sehun he’s with. He doesn’t think he’s ever laughed before sex this much before, except with Chanyeol, but even then, they would get straight to it as soon as he crossed the door.

Baekhyun isn’t in any hurry, however, and Sehun looks like he wants to take his time. He’s enjoying this, Sehun’s tentative touch, his eager, uncertain gaze, and the wonder that pulls at his lips every once in a while.

Sehun leans down and brands a kiss under Baekhyun’s belly button. He travels lower, stopping right over Baekhyun’s dick. Baekhyun slips fingers into Sehun’s hair, his breath hitched in his throat, anticipating, as Sehun scoots down to kiss over the inside of his thigh again.

“Sehunnie,” Baekhyun whispers. Sehun lifts his gaze again; his eyes are darker, determined. This time when he slides upward, he takes one of Baekhyun’s balls into his mouth to suck. Baekhyun gasps, watching Sehun let go of his ball to lick a straight line over his dick. At the tip, he encloses it, his cheeks hollowing when he takes in more. “Oh, god.”

Sehun releases his dick with an obscene pop. “You like that?” His lower lip grazes the tip of his dick and Baekhyun shudders, moans, impossibly turned on over the state of Sehun: his stung mouth, red and shiny, his lids falling heavy over a stare that is both sensuous and disarming.

“’Course I do,” Baekhyun pants. “But you don’t have to—”

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Sehun answers. Without another word, he takes Baekhyun’s dick into his mouth again, rubbing with tight fingers over what he can’t fit. Baekhyun moans, loud, unbidden, his back arching off the bed when Sehun sucks harder.

“Sehun,” Baekhyun moans, grabbing Sehun’s shoulder, “I’m going to—”

Sehun pulls off of Baekhyun’s dick and wipes the saliva on his chin idly, which only serves to make Baekhyun even hornier. “Wait, I don’t want you to come yet.” He moves over Baekhyun until he’s sitting over his hips, steadying himself by hands perched on his chest. He bends over him to kiss him, wet and dirty, almost messy in his own eagerness. Sehun rolls his hips ever so slightly to rub his dick over Baekhyun’s abdomen, and it translates into quiet, tiny moans passed over their tongues. It makes Baekhyun crazy, the sticky feel of come over his torso. Grabbing Baekhyun’s dick, Sehun lines it below his ass so it slides over his crack as he moves. Baekhyun breaks off from kissing just to say, breathily, “Fuck, that feels good.”

Sehun goes back to kissing Baekhyun with more zeal than before, biting at his lower lip and pulling when he grips Baekhyun’s dick in a tight ring with his fingers and starts stroking slow and maddening, the roll of his hips gaining speed in a frantic pursuit to rub his dick over his skin.

“Okay, now,” Sehun pants over his lips, “I want you to fuck me.”

“Okay.” Baekhyun clutches his hips like a lifeline. “Okay.”

Sehun gives him a tiny smile then he slides off the bed to saunter towards his bathroom. Baekhyun enjoys the sight of his naked body moving around freely, but when he comes back with the condoms and lube, Baekhyun nearly forgets to breathe.

“I’m clean,” Sehun tells him, sitting on the bed. “But I got them just in case.”

“I’m clean, too,” Baekhyun says. “I took the test like two months ago and I haven’t… since then…”

“I know,” Sehun murmurs, pecking him. “But I want us to be safe.”

Baekhyun brings Sehun down by his nape to swipe his tongue over his mouth; Sehun catches it with his lips, sucking on it until Baekhyun is breathing out needy moans. By the time they separate, Sehun is breathing just a tad bit harder, a spark of determination in his eyes, like he can’t wait any longer. And Baekhyun can’t either—when Sehun opens the cap to the lube and pours a dollop into his palm, anticipation builds inside him, swelling like the ocean.

Sehun reaches behind himself, gazing at Baekhyun, and all Baekhyun can do is gape when he finally breaches his entrance, his lids fluttering shut and his mouth parted in a silent moan. Sehun’s arm moves behind him in growing speed, his moans becoming desperate, his brows pinched, a blush painting his face down to his chest. It’s such a beautiful sight, Baekhyun is momentarily awestruck, seized by the desire to take it all in and burn it to his memory at the same time.

Sehun rocks his hips forward in an evident attempt to get some relief, so Baekhyun removes his arm and sits up to replace him. Two fingers go in easily on the first try; Baekhyun’s stomach drops and knots up in an instant. Sehun grips his shoulders, moaning into his ear, his breath hot and damp, his dick heavy and silky on his abdomen. 

It all happens so fast, Baekhyun can barely register it: Sehun removes his arm, pushes him down by the shoulders and scoots back so he can hover over Baekhyun’s navel. Taking hold of Baekhyun’s dick, he begins positioning himself and then he lowers on his dick, fast and forceful, until it’s snug inside. Baekhyun grunts his name, head rolling back, as Sehun begins moving slowly, back and forth, up and down, trying to find a rhythm. As he begins bouncing, palms set firmly on Baekhyun’s chest, his dick slaps against his abdomen and the veins on his neck protrude, his teeth digging into his lower lip.

When Sehun’s thighs begin trembling, Baekhyun takes control by grabbing his hips, feet planted flat on the mattress, and thrusting right into his entrance. Sehun positively hollers, head tipped back and eyes closed, nails digging into his abdomen—and with his sweat-soaked skin, shimmering over his working muscles, he looks breathtaking. Sehun tries to roll his hips, desperate, and when he tires, he falls over Baekhyun, panting heavily. Baekhyun lifts his head slightly just to pepper his face with kisses, and Sehun catches one of them on the fly, working to prolong it by dragging it out, sedated, unhurried.

Once it’s clear Sehun is too exhausted, Baekhyun rolls them over and Sehun falls onto the mattress with brief confusion; it only takes a moment for Baekhyun to reposition himself between his legs, fitting his thighs against his abdomen so he can slip back inside him.

Sehun mewls, eyes closing only for a second before fastening on Baekhyun again, his gaze lost in lust. It’s so full of want and affection, Baekhyun can’t look away, but can’t bear to hold it for long. So he moves down to kiss him briefly, at the same time he begins pushing again, slow at first, but faster, harder when Sehun grips his arms, then traces his sides, ending at the back of his thighs to encourage his thrusts.

Sehun begins stroking himself, and this is how he comes, after one, two strokes, clenching almost painfully around Baekhyun, needy noises falling off him while his hips keep bucking down in faltering motions. It sends Baekhyun right over the edge, Sehun coming all over his front. Somehow he manages to pull out, shed his condomand stroke himself over Sehun, dirtying him even more.

One last broken sigh of pleasure, and Baekhyun collapses on top of Sehun, shivering, forgetting all about the come and sweat between their bodies. Sehun doesn’t seem to mind either, for he wraps languid arms over him, then kisses the side of his face, right below where his hair is matted to his temples.

When strength returns to his limbs, Baekhyun peels himself off Sehun just to curl his hands over his face and kiss him. A sloppy, lazy kiss, that tastes all the better for it. Sehun’s hair is rowdy and untamed, an atypical sight on him; his cheeks are rosy, scrunched up by a smile, and etching his eyes in two half-moons, alight with tenderness. Baekhyun is a little bit in love.

Baekhyun lies on his side and Sehun scoots close enough that he can feel his breathing evening out over his cooling skin.

“Hi,” Baekhyun whispers, “that was perfect.”

“Don’t be cheesy,” Sehun tells him. He traces Baekhyun’s lower lip with his thumb. “But I’ll admit it was good.”

Baekhyun snorts, then traps Sehun’s thumb with his teeth. Sehun grins, tugging on his ear lovingly.

“I hadn’t had sex in a while too,” Sehun admits into the quiet. “Junmyeon didn’t really like… having sex, so we just… would do other stuff. But not fucking, you know.”

Baekhyun frowns. “Why’d you never tell me that?”

“I don’t know,” Sehun mumbles. “It wasn’t a big deal. Everyone has preferences, right? And it wasn’t like I was with him just for the sex… We were very good friends and I had a good time with him.”

“Do you think he…” Baekhyun arches an eyebrow pointedly. “Did he ever tell you something about it?”

Sehun drops his gaze to Baekhyun’s collarbones. It’s thoughtful. “He said he got tested regularly—we even went together a couple of times. But he’d stay inside the office with the nurse longer than I did… I always thought he just liked talking to her.”

Baekhyun doesn’t know what to say to that. Sehun lets him hold his hands, playing with his fingers tenderly.

“But I wasn’t lying when I said I’m clean,” Sehun reiterates. “I am clean. And I didn’t sleep with other people after Junmyeon.”

“Wait, so you’ve only…” Baekhyun throws him a quizzical look before his words ricochet back to him. “Sorry, it’s not—”

“I’ve only ever slept with three people,” Sehun says. “You, included.”

Baekhyun is stunned for a moment, then embarrassed since he can’t say the same for himself; he can’t begin to count how many men he’s slept with over the years. One thing he’s proud of, though, is that he always made sure to be safe, even when it was a quick fuck at the back of a club.

“Woah,” Baekhyun says dumbly. Sehun’s snicker evolves to a full belly laugh, and Baekhyun blushes, pouting for full effect. Sehun softens when it gets its desired effect.

“Do you like it?” Sehun asks, lowering his voice. Oh, god. Does it do things to Baekhyun. “That I haven’t fucked that many people besides you?”

Baekhyun gulps, scooting so he can kiss Sehun. Partly a distraction tactic—and mainly because he’s pretty fucking hot when he uses that octave and looks at Baekhyun from under his lashes. “Maybe,” he confesses. “Do you like it that I’m a total slut?”

“I don’t think you’ve slept with more people than Madonna or George Michael,” Sehun comments flippantly. Baekhyun chortles. “And who even cares anyway. I don’t really mind that stuff.”

“Really?” Baekhyun comes close enough that he can count each of Sehun’s lashes. He runs fingers over his neck up to his cheekbones. “I’m your little slut.”

“You are my little slut.” Sehun grabs his ass, and Baekhyun gasps, then hums delightedly, kissing Sehun again. Embarrassingly enough he can feel himself going hard again just from the enticing drag of Sehun’s caresses from his naked hips down to his thighs. “Do you feel like going again?”

“Call me a slut—” Baekhyun sucks on a patch of skin next to Sehun’s adam’s apple. The resulting sound is _lewd_. Now he’s fully hard and he can tell Sehun is there already. “But yeah.”

Baekhyun is stacking a new batch of records on a boring Saturday afternoon, when Chanyeol and Seulgi enter the store looking like business.

“Hey?” Baekhyun says, when his friends are near. “Did something happen?”

“Look.” Seulgi holds a colorful pamphlet in front of her. Baekhyun grabs the pamphlet and reads—it’s a call for a competition of local bands of any genre and age. _Battle of the Bands_ reads the headline in bright red letters. “We need to sign up.”

“First prize is a record deal,” Chanyeol elaborates. “We have to do it!”

“Alright,” Baekhyun says. “But we don’t have a setlist?”

“We’ll make more songs,” Chanyeol insists. “We have plenty—you’ve made a few yourself—”

“Yeah, but those are personal,” Baekhyun rebuts. “I don’t know if I can…”

“We’ll figure it out,” Seulgi says. “The deadline is in two weeks. We need to sign up first.”

“Okay,” Baekhyun says. “We’ll figure it out.”

“So we’re doing this?!” Chanyeol’s eager smile swallows his face. Seulgi looks from one to the other, an expectant twinkle in her small eyes, that Baekhyun can never say no to in a million years.

“Sure,” Baekhyun says, a bit unsure, a whole lot more excited seeing the enthusiasm from his friends. “Let’s do this.”

Later that night, Baekhyun is playing loose notes on his keyboard. Sehun is reading a magazine next to him on the floor, his shirt ridden up over his torso—it’s the Pepsi shirt he’d worn the first time they went out together, and that Sehun’s obviously become fond of because Baekhyun likes to tell him how cute he looks in it every time he wears it around the house.

“What are you playing?” Sehun peers at him over the rim of Vogue. “That sounds nice.”

“It’s just a song I’ve been trying to finish for a while,” Baekhyun replies with practiced offhandedness, playing some more notes. In his chest, his heart begins to hammer. Sehun rarely asks about his compositions; it’s like he instinctively knows that Baekhyun doesn’t like sharing much about them or what inspires him to write certain songs, and Sehun being Sehun, he never probes. But now that he’s asked… “Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” Sehun murmurs, as if searching for words. “It sounds… romantic.”

Baekhyun’s laugh is a quiet, dissonant noise that is more air than music. “Well, it’s supposed to give that sort of vibe. Romantic.”

“Oh.” Sehun puts his magazine down. Baekhyun can’t make himself check his expression, no matter how much he’s dying to do so. “Okay.”

Unexpectedly, he hears Sehun moving, and to his surprise, he sits behind Baekhyun and sets his chin on his shoulder, legs bent on each side of him and an arm wound over his waist. Baekhyun stiffens for all of a half a second, then loosens with a single release of breath.

“Would you tell me the lyrics?” Sehun queries. The question flutters against his ear like a moth’s wings, so intimate and careful, Baekhyun’s chest trembles with it. “Or is it too personal?”

“It is,” Baekhyun admits, laboring to sound steady. “But it’s… There are songs I show to people and there are other songs, like this one, that I keep to myself.”

“Okay,” Sehun says, leaning away. “Sorry I asked.”

“No, it’s not like that.” Baekhyun hurries to clasp Sehun’s arm over his stomach to impede his leaving. “This song… I’ll show you.”

At one last intake of breath, for encouragement, Baekhyun begins playing the song. Sehun leans away from him as the song delves into its chorus, Baekhyun singing the bits of lyrics he has so far and filling in with humming where he’s unsure of the lines. It’s only the bare bones of the song, just the first two verses and a sparse chorus, but Baekhyun plays it like a worn-in melody.

When it ends, the silence in the room threatens to drown Baekhyun, who is too afraid to angle his head just a little to the right to face his boyfriend. A beat later, Sehun presses his lips to the side of his neck, rubs his cheek against his like a puppy, to show his appreciation.

“I love it, I love it so much,” Sehun tells him, earnest. Another kiss to his neck. “It’s beautiful. It has a bit of a Beastie Boys touch. But it’s…”

“It’s not finished,” Baekhyun adds in. “I need to fill in a few lines. I’m just not used to that kind of song…”

“Cheesy?” Sehun’s breath tickles Baekhyun’s cheek. Baekhyun grins, squirming a little in his hold. “Sappy?”

“Yeah, yeah, joke all you want,” Baekhyun mutters, putting away his notes. Sehun laughs, tightening his arms around him so as to not let him escape. Not that Baekhyun would slip that easily out of his hold. “It is sappy and I like it.”

“The person you wrote it for must be really lucky,” Sehun mentions, unassuming. No hidden meaning that Baekhyun can pick up on. With an easy smile, he inclines his head back to rest it on Sehun’s shoulder. “They must be all kinds of wonderful.”

“They are wonderful.” Baekhyun draws circles with his fingertip over Sehun’s arm. “Even if sometimes they burn the toast and put Puff’s water bowl in the way to the kitchen and I trip over it in the morning…”

Sehun snickers, nuzzling his face into Baekhyun’s neck. It makes Baekhyun laugh out of ticklish giddiness. “You know I always forget!”

“The important question here is—” Baekhyun removes Sehun’s arms so he can turn and sit in Sehun’s lap. Sehun latches onto his hips, thumbs stroking over the mass exposed by his shirt and the waistband of his jeans. “Do you hate the idea of me writing songs for you?”

Sehun rises a perplexed eyebrow. “Why would I?”

“It’s just that—you know—” Baekhyun licks his lips, tries to find the words. “We’ve only been dating since December and I thought it’d be weird if I—”

Sehun stamps a chaste kiss on his mouth to shut him up. “I think it’s cute.” Baekhyun releases a long stream of air. “The best thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Baekhyun beams, full of adoration. “Good. Okay.”

“Is that why you didn’t want anyone else to hear those songs?” Sehun asks, rubbing his palms over Baekhyun’s thighs. “I think Chanyeol once whined to me about something like that.”

“Your opinion matters the most to me,” Baekhyun whispers, brushing Sehun’s hair away from his forehead. Sehun smiles, cotton-soft and lovely, and Baekhyun cradles his cheeks tenderly. “Above everyone else’s. I needed to know what you thought first.”

“Well, I think it’s great.” Sehun tilts his head to his touch. “And I hope you play it at a gig someday.”

“We’ll see,” Baekhyun says vaguely, right before—and what better way to end the subject—kissing him. Sehun strokes over his waist and down to his ass to grab a handful of it. Baekhyun hums into the kiss, hips bucking with want, and starts undoing Sehun’s jeans without much ceremony. Baekhyun kisses the corner of Sehun’s mouth at the same time he sneaks a hand into his crotch, massaging his dick into half hardness. Sehun’s lids flutter, delightful little sounds spilling from his lips. “Maybe I’ll just keep it and use it to get into your pants.”

Sehun’s eyes are narrowed, a wheezy laugh shaking his shoulders. “Why? It doesn’t really take much to get into my pants.”

Before Baekhyun can articulate a witty response, Sehun scoops an arm under his thighs to hoist him up and waddles over to the bedroom. Baekhyun squeals first, winding his arms around Sehun’s shoulders, then laughs joyously, filling every corner of his tiny flat with his music.

In the second week of February, Sehun takes Baekhyun on a trip to Lewes. At first Baekhyun was a bit unimpressed—it’s not Paris or Rome, or even _Dublin_ —but the more he thought about it, the more excited he was to be away from the bustle of Brighton and amidst the tranquil ambience of a smaller town. And best off all, to spend all that time with Sehun without the nuisance of jobs and ballet classes standing in between.

With their bags packed, they embark on the trip in Seulgi’s car, and make the short trip to Lewes on a cold Friday morning. Baekhyun is unofficially in charge of the playlist for the road trip, but as it progresses, Sehun keeps suggesting songs and demanding that Baekhyun play the song he likes or he’s going to turn the car around and go back to Brighton. Baekhyun knows he won’t, but he indulges Sehun all the same, because he loves the way he puckers his lips and furrows his brow when he doesn’t get what he wants.

They arrive in Lewes around noon, a vibrant sun hanging overhead when they stop at a bistro for lunch. Sehun has offered to pay for everything as a late Christmas present for Baekhyun—this was primal the reason for the whole trip—but Baekhyun still refuses, so he insists on paying for the food. Sehun relents, giving a tiny smirk across the table, with the promise of more. Baekhyun, never one to back off, returns it, leaning forward with his chin in his cupped palm and stares right through his boyfriend.

In the afternoon, after walking along the shops, they check into a guesthouse close to the bars and pubs in the downtown area. There are college-aged travelers lounging in the common area, talking and playing the guitar, and a middle-aged Chinese couple who greet and help them with their luggage when they enter the house. Baekhyun strikes easy conversation with them, telling them about his job at the record store in Brighton and Sehun’s dance performance degree and his ballet classes. The couple is impressed, and when they ask what brought them to the town off-tourist season, Baekhyun merely shrugs and tells them they wanted to see the sights.

Once inside their room, Sehun leaves the luggage at the door and Baekhyun plunges onto the bed, bouncing on the mattress with intent.

“We gotta test the bounciness,” Baekhyun proposes cheekily. Sehun laughs, shoving his shoulder. Baekhyun falls sideways on the bed. Sehun slips out of his shoes and opens his suitcase to look for his comfy pants. “Is Grandpa Sehun going to retire for the day?”

“Shut up, I’m just going to lie down for a bit,” Sehun tells him, laughing. Baekhyun lies back, his arms behind his head, simply observing Sehun. “I need to take a nap. My back is killing me after sitting for so long in the car… Do you wanna stay in? We can walk around in the evening.”

Now that Sehun mentions it, he _is_ tired. Taking naps in the middle of the day, when there is so much to do, is not exactly part of his routine, but sleeping in with Sehun is alluring, even if that’s something they could do any day back in Brighton.

“Of course,” Baekhyun says, jumping to his feet. After stripping to his underwear, he gives Sehun a short kiss. “We can go to the pub we saw on the way here. And then we can walk along the canal later.”

“Sure.” Sehun tosses the covers aside and waits for Baekhyun to get to the bed. Baekhyun scoots close and Sehun pecks his forehead. “Sounds romantic.”

“Shut up,” Baekhyun laughs, tapping Sehun’s sternum with his knuckles. “I know you’re a romantic at heart, too.”

“Maybe,” Sehun teases, closing his eyes. “I wonder if the other guests will hear us if we have sex.”

Baekhyun snorts, considering it as well. “Probably not, if we’re quiet. Which we aren’t.”

“Well,” Sehun says, bringing Baekhyun close so his head fits below his chin, “it’s not like we’re seeing these people ever again anyway.”

“Looks like my shamelessness is rubbing off on you,” Baekhyun murmurs. Sehun’s muffled snores are all he gets for a response.

Later that evening, they drink a pint at a pub near the guesthouse with a big plate of cheese fries. Near midnight, Sehun suggests taking a walk to see the town before heading home. It’s a fresh night out; the interior of the pub had been hot and stuffy due to the crowd and smoke floating dense in the space, and in contrast, the night air is pleasant on Baekhyun’s skin, washing out the stifling sensation that seemed to stick to him like a grease stain. It’s chilly enough to warrant keeping his jacket on, so Baekhyun presses close to Sehun, shoulder to shoulder, as the pair strolls along the riverside.

Since it’s a Friday night, there’s a considerable number of people outside, standing under awnings, talking loudly and smoking leisurely, raucous chatter and laughter, some seemingly heading out from a party, or heading to one, most already in a state of inebriation. Couples populate the benches lining the cobblestone path, kissing or whispering, and Baekhyun wishes he could drag Sehun into one and kiss him stupid, just like all the rest.

They decide to stop on the bridge to gaze at the river. The lamps glitter and waver over the waters, inky and still, flanked by houses and buildings, its dark-colored bricks mossed stained. It flows into the sea in a light, rushing noise; Baekhyun imagines it changes in the daylight, but right now, the quiet that permeates it, only broken by the distant voices of night-dwellers, offers a calming atmosphere, almost romantic.

“This is so pretty,” Baekhyun comments. Making sure there is no one looking, he steps up to Sehun, yanks him the neck of his denim jacket, and presses a quick kiss to his lips. “Thank you for all of this.”

A tiny smirk graces Sehun’s features. “It’s not all.”

“Oh?” Baekhyun raises his eyebrows and matches Sehun’s smile. “Is there more?”

“That’s a secret,” Sehun says cheekily. Baekhyun groans, hitting his chest lightly with his fists. “But I’ll tell you later. I can’t ruin the surprise.”

Baekhyun puckers his mouth into a pout. It does not work: Sehun purses his lips, shaking his head resolutely. Surrendering, Baekhyun cracks a laugh, tugs at Sehun’s sleeve so he can hold his hand for a minute. “Okay, you’re right. It’s more fun when it’s a surprise. Though I’ll be dying of curiosity until you tell me…”

“Oh I know,” Sehun remarks. “You’re the most impatient person I know.”

Baekhyun scowls, then sticks his tongue out at Sehun when he laughs. “If the surprise is your dick then I’ll let you know I’m very familiar with it.”

“And yet you still love it,” Sehun catches. Baekhyun laughs again, clutching Sehun’s arm. “Anyways, I won’t tell you, so stop trying to get an answer out of me.”

“Alright.” Baekhyun pulls at Sehun’s arm one time before he lets go. “Maybe I’ll just try other ways to get it out of you.”

Baekhyun bites his lower lip with a smile as he looks at Sehun. Sehun schools his face into an unimpressed expression, barely allowing a hint of a smile. “I won’t say anything to that.”

Baekhyun snorts, pushing at his boyfriend playfully, making Sehun laugh at last. In the stillness of night, his laughter carries with the breeze, a sound nearly melodical in its cadence. Everything in that moment, right there, is worth a thousand snapshots: the dark strands of Sehun’s hair swinging over his forehead, the way he looks when he brushes them back, his dark eyes falling on Baekhyun and locking themselves there.

Not for the first time, Baekhyun has the strangest urge to freeze this moment, so everything, even to the tiniest detail, remains exactly the way it is in that very instant for an eternity.

“What are you thinking?” Sehun asks, voice low. That quirk in his mouth, like he has an idea of what’s in Baekhyun’s head, bespeaks of a hundred secrets.

“I’m thinking about kissing you,” Baekhyun admits coyly. “I really, really, really want to push you against these railings and make out with you.”

Sehun comes so close that their chests nearly touch, his nose barely inches away from Baekhyun. Like the terrible tease he is, he steps away in the next blink, walking ahead with his hands in his jacket pockets and flashing Baekhyun a mocking smirk over his shoulder.

“Maybe we should get going then,” Sehun says. “It’s getting late.”

Baekhyun stands gawking for a second longer before he follows. Sehun’s cackling splinters into a squeal when Baekhyun pinches his hip in retaliation.

The following morning, they venture into town accompanied by a pleasant February breeze. The sky is an electric shade of blue, trees draped in fierce greens and yellows, the signs and shops the most vibrant of colors. Around noon, they have lunch at a pizzeria, just because Sehun misses Joe’s pizzas, and the entire meal is spent in amusing comparisons of both menus. Baekhyun laughs at Sehun’s half-assed food critique, feeding him slices to shut him up, and Sehun eats them happily without interrupting his rant for too long.

After lunch, they head to the famous Lewes Castle located on High Street. Baekhyun has never been in a castle before so he’s excited to see it. On their way there, Sehun tells him some bits of history about the castle; it was built in the late 11th century to guard the gap in the South Downs by a Norman baron. Sehun goes on to talk about other castles he’s seen in his trips across Europe; the Edinburgh Castle, which Sehun mentions wasn’t as impressive as, say, the Neuschwanstein Castle in Germany.

The castle governs over Lewes on top of a hill, decked by town buildings, and a sparse garden in the back, its age-black, decaying brick rendering a stark contrast to the bright grassy lane of its foundations. They hike to the top on a serpentine staircase to the side of the castle; Baekhyun must be terribly out of shape, for he starts to pant halfway through the trek, while Sehun taunts him with having to carry him the rest of the way. Baekhyun takes the bait and makes a lewd comment that flusters Sehun into speechlessness and draws weird looks from the tourists at Baekhyun’s rowdy laugh.

An amazing view of the town awaits at the top, with its little red and white houses steeped in a sea of lush green. Sehun stretches an arm in front of him and pretends to lift the houses with his index and thumb.

“They all look like cookie houses,” Sehun notes, then pretends to eat them.

Baekhyun gazes at him amusedly, snaking fingers over his wrist first, an excuse to step close and rub his stomach pointedly.

“Is somebody hungry already?”

“Just a little,” Sehun replies. As he says this, he grabs Baekhyun’s wrist and bites on the supple flesh of his upper arm. Baekhyun laughs loudly, jolting away, a slap to his hip in retaliation. Admittedly, he loves it when Sehun bites him, since he also bites him often.

“You need to wait ‘til we get to the guesthouse for that kinky shit,” Baekhyun warns lowly. Sehun laughs, then slings a casual arm over his shoulder once they finally venture into the castle premises.

Inside, the castle is as old and magical as Baekhyun imagined. Sehun gets ahold of a pamphlet with historical information that serves as background detailing in their exploration of the castle.

In the afternoon, they head down to the pier, where a fair is being held for the end of winter. It’s such pleasant weather; the sun’s been a fixture since the morning, pale and deceptive, and the temperature hasn’t dropped to require more layers of clothing. They stop for hot chocolate at a little cafe down the road from the beach—quaint and vintage, which immediately attracts Sehun’s attention. The cafe is playing a Led Zeppelin album and they hum to it during the wait for the drinks.

Baekhyun gets whipped cream on his upper lip when he takes his first sip, and his attempts at licking it off with the tip of his tongue fail. Sehun reaches across the table to swipe a napkin across his mouth, chuckling like a dad with a particularly unruly kid.

“I really can’t bring you anywhere, can I?”

Baekhyun titters, scrubbing the spot with the side of his fist. “But you would’ve been so bored all alone here.”

“I could’ve brought Puff with me,” Sehun jests, taking a sip of hot chocolate. “It’s more or less the same.”

Baekhyun kicks Sehun under the table, but Sehun quickly retrieves his legs while laughing. After Sehun mentioned her, Baekhyun wonders how Puff is fairing; he’d left her enough food to last her a month, but the cat comes and goes so often, he’s sure she must have more than one home to keep her fed and tended.

A couple two tables down brings Baekhyun out of his reverie. The woman has her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder, hands entwined, the man whispering things to her that are making her giggle. It’s not the obnoxious type of PDA that Baekhyun dislikes; it’s sweet, discreet, and most of all, genuine. Not the type that seems to be trying rub their relationship off on everyone’s faces.

Then, Sehun is taking his hand, the one that had been over the table next to his cup. The chocolate is going cold and the whipped cream has melted into the brown liquid. Baekhyun looks at his boyfriend with surprise; Sehun returns his gaze casual, even neutral, arching a mildly quizzical brow at Baekhyun.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Baekhyun cuts down. Over the table, he flips his palm upwards so they touch. “You just surprised me.”

Sehun sneaks a tiny smile. “You looked kinda pensive.”

“Sometimes… I just think….” Baekhyun plays with a few sugar grains. “It’s dumb, but I wish I could hold your hand and stuff in public. It’s stupid, I know. We have our own space to do all that stuff.” As Sehun stares back, self-consciousness begins to take over. “Forget what I said I’m just being dumb.”

“No, it’s fine,” Sehun says, unsure. “Do you want to talk about it…?”

“No.” Baekhyun gives Sehun a reassuring smile. Without adding another word, he gathers his jacket and makes to stand. “Let’s go down to the pier?”

Sehun follows him out silently. Though this gale in his temperament does not last; three shops down from the cafe they lock pinkies, hidden by their coats, and separate only after they reach a crowded section of the beach.

Down at the pier, they play the games, rigged as they are, just for fun of it, and lose spectacularly in each one of them. They laugh at how bad they are and move on to the next. Later, they hop on the Ferris wheel, and watch the sunset when it halts at the top, the sky drenched in purple and pink, bruised clouds stretched over the town.

“This is so pretty,” Baekhyun says, perched on the window. “I really didn’t have much faith in Lewes, but I gotta say I’m a changed man.”

Sehun snorts, grabbing his arm to lace their fingers together. “I came here once for winter break during middle school with my parents and brother. I didn’t remember much of it, just how it made me feel… like it was magical or something.”

“You know, I once read that memories are not always accurate,” Baekhyun says, “but the way we feel about the particular memory is. Some of our memories are fabricated because they’re manipulated by our feelings, but our feelings are the one thing that are real.”

Not an instant later, Baekhyun laughs, embarrassed, perhaps at his words, or the candor undertowed in them. Or it may be the way Sehun is peering at him raptly, an emotion that burns right under his irises and that Baekhyun can’t decipher. Only a handful of times has that kind of look appeared in Sehun, and it never fails to trap and confound Baekhyun in equal measures.

“That makes sense,” Sehun acquiesces gently. “But there are things I wish I could remember every detail of… like this moment.”

“Don’t be cheesy,” Baekhyun chastises, a smile belaying him. Sehun’s smile becomes askew, the telltale sign of a suppressed giggle. Also happiness. “About what I said at the coffee shop…”

“It’s alright.” Sehun breaks his stare and looks straight ahead. The set of his jaw is locked. A pang of remorse prickles Baekhyun again. “I feel like that sometimes, too. But it makes me want to touch you even more when we’re alone.”

Relief soothes his nerves at Sehun’s joke. He happily takes it, resting his cheek against his shoulder. “You’re so naughty.” He squeezes his hand. “But that’s a nice way to see it.”

In hindsight, Baekhyun can’t believe he was the one to feel that way, when two months earlier he couldn’t see himself dating anyone properly. Now, here he is, upset that he can’t do proper boyfriend things with his boyfriend in public. The irony of the whole situation tugs a smile out of him.

“I just can’t imagine not wanting to touch you,” Baekhyun says, “or kiss you. The thought of it is like impossible to me.”

Sehun seems at a loss for words, but he smiles, soft at the edges. With a hand on his nape, he draws Baekhyun close to kiss him, slow and measured, stealing Baekhyun’s breath right out of his lungs.

When they separate, Sehun’s eyes are at half mast, full of intent, like he wants to say something. It’s a carbon copy of the look from earlier, and, under the dying glow of the afternoon, it enthralls Baekhyun all the more. Then the machine becomes alive abruptly and their carriage begins its descent back to ground again.

After they get tired of losing at every game, they leave the fair to stroll down the promenade, eating cotton candy from a friendly vendor. It’s near midnight, people are heading to the fair or from it, walking to the bars or from them. A noisy group of college-aged boys walk past them and Baekhyun has to press to Sehun so as to not bump into them.

“You know, when I was in high school,” Baekhyun says, “I won a teddy bear at one of those shooting games and my brother made me give it to his girlfriend.”

“That’s so shitty,” Sehun laughs, tosses the candy stick into a trash can. “My brother always let me keep the toys and I think I still have some of those.”

“Your brother sounds like a nice dude.” Baekhyun snags the last bit of his cotton candy and tosses the stick into the same trash can. “I keep imaging him as a slightly older version of you.”

Sehun directs honey eyes at Baekhyun. “You’re not so off the mark, but I think I’m better looking.”

“I’ll be the one to decide that,” Baekhyun huffs.

“What?” Sehun asks, suddenly alert. “Do you want to meet him?”

The question takes Baekhyun off guard. It hadn’t occurred to him, in the short time they’ve been dating, that they would meet each other’s families at some point, like most normal couples do. But since they don’t exactly fall into normal category, Baekhyun never considered it a possibility.

“Does he…?” Baekhyun gestures awkwardly between them. “Does he know…?”

“Yeah,” Sehun shrugs, hands thrust into his pockets. “He knows that I like men and I…” He looks first to the beach, then to the street ahead. “And I’ve told him a little about you whenever he calls.”

A flush of heat covers his neck in the mild chill of a February night. “Really?” The surprise of the revelation has risen his voice a pitch. “He knows about us?”

Sehun shrugs again, this time engrossed in his sneakers scraping the dirt underfoot. “Why wouldn’t he?” His tone, though forged in nonchalance, has a slight defensive edge. “You’re my boyfriend.”

And just like that, the shock gives way to a sort of giddiness that envelopes and disarms Baekhyun entirely like a magic trick. He beams at Sehun, gripped by the desire to yank him by his shirt and kiss him, right there, against the pitch-black sky, the distant, burning stars, the thundering waves, that blow of wind that plays with Sehun’s hair and lends his cheeks a beautiful, lovely rosiness, as if the ocean was in love with him as well.

It should matter to Baekhyun that this is Sehun’s family, whom he’ll have to impress to a certain degree, that this is the kind of thing about relationships he’d often scoffed at and made fun of in the past, but right now, he couldn’t care less. Not when Sehun is smiling at him with the same kind of adoration that is flooding his chest.

“Alright,” Baekhyun decides in the end, “I’d like to meet him.”

“You do?” Sehun’s all wonder and skepticism rolled into one. “I thought you’d say no.”

“It’s just your brother.” Baekhyun resumes his walk. “If it was your mother, on the other hand…”

“Well, my mom is cool,” Sehun says, and Baekhyun can hear _something_ in his tone, “but she’s not very… involved in my life.”

Baekhyun bites hard on his tongue. Over time, he’d noticed that Sehun didn’t often speak of his mother; he’d bring her up in old anecdotes of his family trips, but rarely, if ever, in the present tense. All Baekhyun knew was that she’d remarried when Sehun got into college and resided somewhere in the Italian countryside with her new husband and a golden retriever named Pomps. 

“Right.” Baekhyun’s kicking himself a little for mentioning her. “That’s good by me then.”

A group of girls speaking in French pass by them, sheets of sand-colored hair fluttering in the wind, and this, and the guttural sound of the language, stirs a white flash of a memory in Baekhyun: he and Sehun at the pier, the ocean blanketed by night, the thrilling first touch of Sehun’s warm skin…

“Oh!” Baekhyun whips around to Sehun with a grin. “Remember what you told me that night like ages ago? In French?”

“Kind of,” Sehun says. “Why?”

“Because you never told me what it meant.” Baekhyun tugs at Sehun’s sleeve insistently. “You have to tell me now!”

“It meant,” Sehun says, “you’re pretty cute.”

Baekhyun’s jaw slackens with surprise, tensing easily to an ear-splitting grin. “Oh my god,” he exclaims, with a teasing lilt, “you thought I was cute!”

Sehun purses his lips, in that childish way of his, when he isn’t pleased with something. Even in the dimness of the promenade, he can see Sehun’s ears are red.

Baekhyun can’t help a laugh. Inside he’s terribly endeared.

“Let’s keep walking, alright?”

“You thought I was cute!” Baekhyun teases, poking Sehun on his side. Sehun jerks away from him, a smile splintering his façade. “You thought I was _cuuute_!”

“Shut up!”

“I take it from the fact you haven’t stopped smiling like a creep,” Jongdae says a week later, “that the holidays were good.”

The record store is deserted on Tuesday afternoons. Jongdae had come by on his off day because he had nothing else to do. Baekhyun had let him stay around, jokingly begrudging, on the condition of not messing around with albums.

“I’m not smiling like a creep,” Baekhyun rebuts. Though, like Jongdae mentioned it, he didn’t realize that he had, in fact, been smiling. “But yes, it was good.”

Jongdae’s thin eyebrows waggle over a sneer. Baekhyun responds with an elbow to his ribs, hard enough that his friend nearly falls off the chair. “I’m not saying anything!”

“No need to say anything, you looked creepy as hell,” Baekhyun rectifies. “And anyways, I won’t tell you anything.”

“Well, look at you all boyfriend-y and shit,” Jongdae coos, pinching Baekhyun’s cheek. Baekhyun scrunches his nose and swats him away. “A year ago I would’ve never thought I’d see you acting like this.”

Jongdae’s comment is met with an eye-roll. The fact he’s been pondering the same thing all along is left unmentioned. Hearing it from Jongdae annoys him for a childish reason, but he is right—a year ago Baekhyun would’ve never thought he’d be taking trips with a boy, let alone his boyfriend, for a weekend getaway and gushing about it to his friends.

Baekhyun isn’t bothered by it the tiniest bit. Cheesy as it sounds, and he hates it, the more he thinks of how Sehun had looked on the morning of their last day in Lewes, the less he cares about what it all looks to other people.

“You’re all grown up.” Jongdae grabs his head to kiss Baekhyun’s hair.

Baekhyun shrinks back with a yelp. “Shut up, before I kick you out,” he threatens, though he’s smiling at the evident fondness in his friend and the happiness fizzing inside him.


	3. and words are futile devices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys better have tissues ready for this one

Winter passes slower than usual. This is fine for Baekhyun because it means staying in with Sehun, drinking hot chocolate, and composing silly tunes. Sehun’s late Christmas present was a shiny new keyboard that now sits proudly in his living room, bathed in the sunshine streaming from the window. The first thing Baekhyun had done with it was composing a song about the way Sehun had looked the morning he’d given it to Baekhyun and how bright his cheeks had reddened after he’d kissed him.

March brings along a kinder climate. Brighton blooms after a long, winter sleep; trees are a lush green, flowers blossoming in vibrant colors. The turn of the month also bears good news: Sehun gets the lead in the end-of-semester ballet performance at his academy.

The show is a modernization of _Giselle_. Sehun tells Baekhyun all about the plot: a woman named Giselle falls in love with a charmer who deceits her, and she dies of heartbreak. After her death, female spirits are out to haunt him, but Giselle, in a selfless act of love, saves his life, and herself in the process, of becoming a vengeful spirit.

They celebrate by having a small picnic on Baekhyun’s flat building’s rooftop. Getting drunk on champagne and having sex under the full moon, Sehun’s favorite Fleetwood Mac album playing in the background.

The news arrives at the same time Rabid Pussy is rehearsing for the _Battle of the Bands_ competition. Rabid Pussy composes a couple more songs, because Chanyeol, ever the perfectionist, wants to make sure they have the right choices in their final set for the competition. So they go over their past songs to rearrange them until they sound like completely new songs. Baekhyun is content, for he gets to make music again, and kiss Sehun when he’s tired or sneak into Chanyeol’s bathroom to make out.

One of the rival bands in the competition is a local band that has a sizeable following in the live club circuit in Brighton. Pink Rabbits is their name. Baekhyun is familiar with the band, given that they play occasional gigs at the same bars he and his friends frequent. The main vocalist, a guy by the name of Kyungsoo, used to hook up with Baekhyun over a year ago every time they crossed paths at Rainbow.

After discovering they were up for the competition, Chanyeol and Baekhyun decided to go to one of their weekend shows to spy on their act. Chanyeol had called it enemy reconnaissance, which Baekhyun had snorted at.

Sehun had tagged along for the fun and free drinks. They all sit in a booth, slightly hidden from the stage, to watch the band. To say they’re amazing is an understatement. Their set is a blend of acoustic and dance-pop, a mix of The Smiths and New Order. Kyungsoo’s voice is the most notorious thing about the act; it’s soothing, deep, kind of like what melted chocolate would sound like if it became sound. At the sound of his voice, a clear shiver runs down Baekhyun’s spine, in reminisce of nights where Kyungsoo would take him and piece him apart with spellbound transfixion.

Kyungsoo looks good. Clad in black, ripped jeans, a white tee under a flannel shirt, his hair a pink-dyed buzzcut, he looks like the lost member of a punk band. No one should look good bald, and Baekhyun is certain no one else could.

When their set is done, Baekhyun heads to the bar for a refill of his drink. After the bartender scurries off to tend to more patrons, somebody sidles up to the empty place beside him.

“So it was you,” Kyungsoo declares. “I thought my eyes were deceiving me.”

“Nope, it is me,” Baekhyun says, grinning smugly. “Flesh and bone.”

“Huh.” Kyungsoo gestures to the bartender for a whisky. “I saw you all cozied up with that twink over there… Your new boy toy?”

“Not a boy toy,” Baekhyun corrects, sobering up. Just then the bartender slides his drink to him across the bar and Baekhyun hangs onto the chance to look away from Kyungsoo. “He’s… the guy I’m seeing.”

“What?” Kyungsoo’s eyes are wide as plates. “You, seeing someone? You?”

“Yeah.” Baekhyun forces his smile not to falter. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Well, may I remind you of your past?” Kyungsoo tilts his head. The action is slightly condescending, enhanced by the smile on his plump lips. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, that subtle cruelty makes the man look terribly handsome. “Or like some months ago. You were famous for hooking up with whoever at parties and two—even three-timing people.”

“Alright, yeah, I enjoyed sleeping around,” Baekhyun concedes tiredly. “But that’s in the past. Now I’m a changed man.”

“After you met him?” Kyungsoo laughs a horrible, disdainful noise. “If that isn’t the cheesiest shit I’ve ever heard you say. Not something I’d have ever thought I’d hear from you, of all people. Remember how you used to scoff at couples? Now, look at you. I don’t know how to feel about it.”

“Well, you all lost a good one,” Baekhyun says. “You can keep being a slut for me. I’m retired.”

“I don’t mean any offence, but I wonder how long that’ll last.” Kyungsoo’s knowing smirk gets on Baekhyun’s nerves. His voice has lowered to an intimate pitch, and with round fingernails, he plucks at the front of Baekhyun’s shirt. “If you ever decide the strait-laced life isn’t for you, give me a call. I’ll be happy to relive old times.”

One last long look and Kyungsoo steps away, his smile knife-sharp. After he parts, Baekhyun’s left at the bar alone with a simmering in the pit of his stomach he can’t quite pinpoint. It’s only when he’s gazing down at the empty bottom of his glass that he realizes the sensation that invaded him is none other than repulsion. Not just at Kyungsoo’s words and the doubt he’d cast on Baekhyun, but also at the doubt that his very words have planted in him.

When Baekhyun finally returns to the table, Sehun notices in a split second something is off with him. But Baekhyun plasters on his best smile and fences off Sehun’s concerned looks for the rest of the night.

In the morning, Sehun is on the couch, eating toasts from a plate on the coffee table, and Puff curled up at the end of his folded legs. The tv is on an episode of Scooby Doo that Sehun doesn’t seem to be watching. When Baekhyun approaches, Sehun’s back stiffens, his eyes alert in that way that sometimes reminds Baekhyun of a cat; Puff acts the same when Baekhyun opens a can of tuna or a car is noisy outside.

“Hey, you’re up.” Baekhyun sits beside him on the couch. Puff’s ears shift, but the rest of her body remains relaxed. “I didn’t hear you get up.”

“I got up early,” Sehun answers, barely glancing at Baekhyun. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” Baekhyun shrugs, then grabs a toast from the pile. “Why?”

“You were so quiet last night.” Sehun narrows his eyes in evaluation. “You didn’t speak a word to me after we came home.”

The accusation in Sehun’s tone is clear. But it’s the undercurrent of concern swimming through it that stabs a pang of guilt on Baekhyun’s side.

“It’s nothing,” Baekhyun cavaliers. After coming home the previous night, he’d stayed up for hours on end, pondering what Kyungsoo said. Eventually, he’d turned over to find Sehun sleeping next to him and realized that he’d rather have this a thousand times over than sleeping with a dozen men again. “I was just being silly.”

Baekhyun rubs Puff’s back, and the cat lifts her head with a quiet meow. Its eyes are green and sleepy, set on Baekhyun in languid attention. The cat stands, stretches, and slinks over Sehun to settle on his lap. Baekhyun smiles at her obvious preference. Even if he was the one to give her a home, he can’t blame the cat for liking Sehun better.

Sehun rubs Puff’s head absently, but though visibly relaxed at Baekhyun’s answer as he seems, a hint of uncertainty remains in his gaze. Puff sniffs at Sehun’s shirt, then stands to lick over the crumbs sprayed on the fabric. Sehun looks at the cat with alarm, then smiles at her silliness. Baekhyun laughs along, his heart ballooning in his chest, dangerously so, until it can’t fit any longer. It’s a picture-perfect image of domesticity, what he’d scoffed at in the past as Kyungsoo had mentioned, but this is what he wants to wake up to every day for a long, long time.

“Really.” Baekhyun grabs Sehun’s ankle and rubs the skin with his thumb. It soothes away the remaining lines of concern over Sehun’s features. “There’s nothing to worry about, Sehunnie.”

“Alright,” Sehun says in the end. “If you say so.”

Baekhyun grabs the cat and deposits her on his side of the couch. Puff’s indignant meow at being removed from her favorite human goes ignored when Baekhyun proceeds to occupy her place in Sehun’s lap.

Sehun peers up at him tenderly, palms on each thigh. Baekhyun tucks a strand behind his ear. Sehun’s hair has grown long, shaggy tufts hiding his brows and reaching half his nape. Chanyeol had dubbed him a handsome Danny Zuko, to which Sehun had scowled. It’ll certainly be a devastating blow for Baekhyun when he decides to cut it.

“You know I really like eating breakfast when I was a kid,” Baekhyun tells him. “I’ve met no one else who liked it as much as I did.” He places a kiss on Sehun’s entreating mouth. “Until I met you.”

“It’s the most important meal of the day,” Sehun jokes wryly. Baekhyun sweeps his bangs aside. “It reminds me of home, I guess. When I was a kid, I didn’t have much of a home since we were always moving and my parents were always doing something else. My brother had his extracurriculars. But we were always together during breakfast before everyone had to go on their way. So whenever I think of home, I think of breakfast time, and sharing it with you is special to me.”

The tips of Sehun’s ears have reddened, probably because of his candor. Baekhyun grins, endeared, and rubs his left earlobe with two of his fingers.

That is what Sehun has become to him as well. Sehun is his _home_. Somewhere he can be himself without fear of judgement. Somewhere he can rest after a long day. A place he can call his own.

“That’s so cute.” Baekhyun kisses Sehun’s nose. Sehun’s smiley eyes appear like sunshine after rain. “My Sehunnie is so cute.”

“I’m not cute,” Sehun protests weakly. Mischief takes over Baekhyun; he tickles Sehun along his ribs, keeping on after he begs breathlessly for release. “Alright!”

Without warning, Sehun hoists him up, hands clamped under his ass, and all Baekhyun can do is claw at Sehun’s shoulders for support. Seeing Sehun use his strength like this is a total weakness for Baekhyun.

“Can we skip breakfast for now?” Baekhyun gasps out. The meaning behind his words doesn’t escape Sehun. A lopsided smile unfurls where Baekhyun kisses.

“Sure.” Sehun kneads his ass pointedly. “I got better things in mind I’d like to eat.”

Baekhyun’s laughter bounces off the walls. Sehun carries him to the bedroom, their food forgotten in the living room, and the tv showing the morning news.

Rabid Pussy finally settled on a short setlist by the end of March, made up mostly of songs composed by Chanyeol and two composed by Baekhyun. The last song he’d composed, though, didn’t sound quite right in Seulgi’s voice, and he couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason.

“It needs some changes,” Baekhyun declares when they finish rehearsing it for the nth time. “Maybe we should tweak the second chorus a little—make it faster.”

“Baekhyun, c’mon,” Seulgi groans, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “We’ve changed it and played it so many times I’m going to start hating it.”

“But there is something missing.” Baekhyun crosses his arms. “You know it! I know it! We all know it!”

“It needs something.” Chanyeol clasps Baekhyun’s shoulder. Baekhyun gives him a grateful smile. “It needs your voice, Baekhyun.”

“What?!” Seulgi and Baekhyun exclaim in unison. “That song is already mine!” Seulgi protests.

“I don’t sing, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun says. A tight knot forms in his stomach just at the mere thought of singing in front of so many people. School shows were one thing, where most of his friends were cheering from the sidelines. But this… this is different. Sunmi made it seem so easy because she was a natural. “Seulgi can do that on her own.”

“The song can be sung as a duet,” Chanyeol proposes. “You guys are going to sound wonderful!”

“We could give it a try,” Seulgi encourages. “C’mon, Baekhyun, why not?”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “Alright, let’s do it from the beginning.”

The song has improved considerably on the second play. Baekhyun fills in the second verse, so it sounds like a conversation. By the end of the song, Baekhyun is smiling resignedly and Seulgi is grinning like they just hit the lottery.

“It sounds incredible now,” Seulgi says. “It sounds way better than ‘Total Eclipse’ or ABBA.”

“It does,” Baekhyun thinks, believing that with every ounce of his being. “We might even have a chance at winning this thing.”

Hope is a dangerous thing, Baekhyun is well aware. But hope is what roots itself within him when rehearsals go as well as this one does, and the high of fulfillment that overtakes him whenever he makes music leads him to cling to it. And he’s not alone, for he can see the same kind of electrifying passion reflected over his friends’ faces at the end of rehearsals the closer it gets to the competition.

Chanyeol’s grin shows all of his teeth. “We might.”

Sehun arrives to pick him up before dinnertime. He’s wearing his cap backwards, in a way that makes him look like a broody jock, his damp hair plastered to his temples. Right off the bat, Baekhyun can tell something is off; Sehun seems elusive, almost skittish. Though he doesn’t stay out of the conversation when Seulgi drops them off near their stop.

“Is something wrong?”

“Nothing.” Sehun blinks hazily at him. “I’m just sleepy.”

“You sure you’re alright?”

Sehun’s gaze is loaded. The base of his throat hollows out with an in-breath. His wide shoulders are squared under his denim jacket as if he’s bracing himself for something.

Then a car honks on the road, starting both of them. Whatever was playing out in Sehun’s features passes like the receding tide and leaves only the unperturbed surface of his expression.

“My brother’s coming to visit this month.” Sehun stifles a yawn. “I don’t know when, but he’s already told me I should let you know he’s going to take your spot at my flat.”

“Oh my god, I’m going to meet your brother,” Baekhyun exhales in shock. It’s half-joke, half-serious. In all honesty, he’s quite impressed at this milestone in their relationship. “Soon we’re going to be going to family meetings…”

“I doubt we’ll ever do that,” Sehun chuckles, slumping against Baekhyun. There are hardly any people around, so Baekhyun weaves their fingers together. “We’re almost like two orphans.”

“Not you.” Baekhyun nudges his shoulder gently. “Your mother and brother adore you.”

“My mother hardly calls,” Sehun says. “And my brother lives in another country…”

“But he writes constantly and is coming to visit you soon,” Baekhyun tries to be uplifting. There’s a slouch in Sehun’s shoulders when something sad drags his spirits down. It’s a lot like when he gets a cold—and Baekhyun isn’t sure which one it is, for Sehun’s voice has a rough, brooding quality to it that Baekhyun only hears when his mood is particularly gloomy.

Baekhyun used to be jealous often of Sehun’s relationship with his brother. It’s not something he would admit readily, though he suspects Sehun has a clue to it. “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

Sehun’s response is pushed out in a single breath, “I don’t mind being an orphan. Because you make me feel like I’m at home. So I don’t mind so much.”

So that’s what this is about. Baekhyun smiles and squeezes Sehun’s fingers. “I don’t mind it either.”

Sehun nuzzles his cheek into his jacket shoulder. “Do you think we can order pizza when we get home?”

“Sure,” Baekhyun says. “Pepperoni?”

“Of course.”

Sehun’s brother pays him a surprise visit in the last week of April.

Baekhyun plans to take Sehun out for dinner after his ballet class. Sehun hasn’t invited him to see his practices yet—he wants the numbers, and his performances, in particular, to be a complete surprise. At Baekhyun’s pleading, he’s danced bits here and there in the living room, but that is all he’s been willing to give in.

Once the students file out of the studio, it surprises Baekhyun to see Sehun walking out with another man. As they stop in front of him, Baekhyun realizes the man has an uncanny similarity to Sehun, with the ink-black hair, the high cheekbones, and the wise but playful gaze.

“Baekhyun,” Sehun greets, all smiles. “This is Seungsoo. My brother.”

Baekhyun’s taken aback. It only lasts for half a second before he slips into his charming demeanor and shakes the hand Seungsoo is offering him.

“So you’re Baekhyun,” Seungsoo says, his voice jovial gravel. “Sehun’s told me a lot about you. Hope that doesn’t sound as cliché as I think it does.”

“It did,” Baekhyun jokes, grinning. Seungsoo laughs good-naturedly. “But Sehun says I’m the cheesiest person he knows, so that’s fine.”

“Well, what if we get some burgers and fries?” Seungsoo binds an arm around his little brother’s figure. The gesture speaks of closeness, and so does the look of complete adoration on Sehun. “I’m starving.”

Over large burgers and milkshakes, Baekhyun gets friendly with Seungsoo in very little time. The man is charming, churning out jokes that match Baekhyun in wittiness, and possessor of a captivating intelligence—Sehun had mentioned a masters in Boston on one occasion—but somehow he manages not to appear conceited or intimidating. Seungsoo has a deeper laugh than Sehun, but they both share the same crescent-shaped eyes, and it is this that effectively makes Baekhyun warm up to the man.

“We can go to the Louvre while you’re in Paris, Sehun.”

Baekhyun perks up with interest. “You’re going to Paris this year?”

“Yeah,” Sehun says, evasive, “I…”

“He has an offer for a semester at the Royal Ballet,” Seungsoo answers. “Didn’t you tell him?”

“I forgot,” Sehun says, avoiding Baekhyun’s gaze. “It just didn’t seem that important since it’s just a semester and I’m not sure I’ll take it, so…”

“Oh, okay,” Baekhyun concedes, then takes a draught of his coke. It doesn’t ease the tightness around his throat. Seungsoo looks suddenly guilty, by the way his mouth becomes a straight line, much like Sehun’s does. Sehun slouches in his seat, staring into his cold fries, and when he chances a glance at Baekhyun, sparse, quick, it’s fearful, guarded. Then Seungsoo begins a story about a summer trip to Rome, and the table seems to break out of their sudden tension.

For the rest of their meal, Baekhyun and Sehun barely speak a word to each other that isn’t a response to something Seungsoo has said, the strain of the recent revelation sitting with them like an unwanted guest.

“When were you going to tell me?”

Sehun turns with a questioning look. “What about?”

They’re in an unfamiliar street. Sehun was invited to a party by one of his ballet classmates, and Baekhyun agreed to come along, though he’d hardly know anyone there. Seungsoo parted an hour before; they’d gone for ice cream in the parlor at the boardwalk where he and Sehun ate the first time they went out together.

“The Paris thing,” Baekhyun says obliquely. “You going…”

The rest of the sentence is left in the air. Baekhyun can’t bring himself to say it as if the words were to become reality if he uttered them. Sehun understands, for he winces and glances at the streetlight across the road.

“I was going to…” Sehun murmurs, “but Seungsoo beat me to it.” The heel of his sneakers scrapes against the sidewalk. “It’s just an idea. It’s nothing concrete yet.”

Baekhyun doesn’t want to talk about it. Even less here in the middle of the street, four houses down from a party. “Alright then. If that’s the case…”

Sehun stares at him for a long moment. Baekhyun can’t hold it at first, then forces himself to do it. In time, Sehun reaches out to grab his wrist and link their fingers together. It is dangerous to do this during a Saturday evening with pedestrians walking back and forth, but all Baekhyun cares about is to meet Sehun’s beseeching gaze and drown himself in the adoration simmering in it. And when Sehun pulls him in the party’s direction, he can do nothing but follow his lead.

The following morning, Baekhyun and Sehun wake up late, entangled in each other’s arms, covered by a large cable blanket that Sehun’s said he owned as a child.

It’s Baekhyun who pads to the kitchen, sleepy, bone-tired, from yesterday’s activities and sex into the early hours of the morning—though he’s not mad about the latter. He puts on the electric kettle and whirrs to life just as Sehun walks in, yawning, and rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. This Sehun isn’t as handsome as the one he’s used to, but he’s all the same charming, endearing, just another side of him that completes this puzzle of a man. And when he looks at Baekhyun, first thing in the morning, that same smile always unfurls on his lips on time, like the sun breaking through the clouds after a long rainstorm. It’s the one Baekhyun looks forward to every day, even more so than coffee and cereal.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Baekhyun rasps, curling his fingers over Sehun’s shirt to kiss him. Sehun screws his eyes shut, arms limp at his sides. It’s his usual way to kiss in the mornings; Baekhyun takes it it is in part for Sehun’s brain just catching up to the rest of the world and another human, whose contact he likes, all the same; and another part is their morning breaths.

“Morning,” Sehun mutters, levelling his head just so, inviting another kiss. Baekhyun indulges him. “Food?”

“I’m on it,” Baekhyun replies, scurrying to make toast. Sehun shuffles to the radio to tune into his favorite station and then goes to the bathroom. Baekhyun takes out milk and some eggs from the fridge for French toast and an omelet that Sehun will surely like.

They eat breakfast on the living room floor, Baekhyun on his keyboard and Sehun lying down, munching on a toast and tapping his foot to the song on the radio. It’s a rare day when both are at home; Sehun’s been busy with rehearsals and Baekhyun with his job; so this moment is even more enjoyable. The match of both melodies isn’t dissonant in the slightest; Baekhyun can tell Sehun is humming to both melodies when one catches his attention.

As if struck by a thought, Sehun goes to the radio and changes the station. Baekhyun stops playing to watch him; slender, beautiful against the sunlight streaming from the kitchen window, his dark hair still in a disarray and his eyes puffy. When he finds the station he was looking for, a classical piece filters to the room, which Baekhyun recognizes as Tchaikovsky.

“Are you going to dance for me?” Baekhyun asks, entertained. Sehun is swaying to the music, eyes closed, smile pleased. His eyes open a slit and his smile widens. “Go on! Give me a sneak peek of your performance!”

“I can’t just dance to the music like it’s a pop song,” Sehun says, laughing. “It’s not like modern dance, you just don’t apply the same steps… It’s different. Ballet is stricter—it goes according to the movements of the melody.”

“Alright,” Baekhyun concedes. Standing, he backs his tattered couch to the wall and out of the way. Then he sits back on the floor, cross-legged, and looks up at Sehun like a good student. “So, show me the movements of this piece.”

Sehun’s lips are a straight line. Baekhyun knows he’s just feeling shy. At length, his gaze hardens, resolute, as he positions himself and begins moving to the music. Watching him dance, bathed in the morning glow, Baekhyun has an epiphany: Sehun is fated for dancing, no matter what.

A knock interrupts them. Baekhyun has half a mind to ignore it, and it seems Sehun does too, for the way he doesn’t make to stand, but the knocking persists. Then, Baekhyun hears it: two rapid rasps, followed by a final subdued one.

When he opens the door, Baekbeom stands on the other side. The angle of his sparse brows spells disappointment, like he was hoping nobody would be home.

“What are you doing here?” Baekhyun asks. “Is everything okay?”

“I need to talk to you about something.” Baekbeom spots Sehun behind Baekhyun, and by the way his expression freezes, he must have an inkling of what was going on before the door was opened. “It’s a family matter.”

“You can tell me now,” Baekhyun says firmly. “Sehun is like family to me.”

Baekbeom’s mouth curves down at the corners like he wants to argue. Ultimately, he straightens with renewed resolve. “It’s dad,” he says. “He’s had another stroke. Mom wants you there, so she sent me to look for you.”

Baekhyun’s breath catches. “Oh my god, I need to—I can’t just—”

“I can drop by the record store and tell Heechul what happened,” Sehun offers politely. Baekhyun turns in surprise, having forgotten he was there. “If you want.”

“Thank you, Sehunnie,” Baekhyun tells him gratefully. Then to Baekbeom, “I’ll go get ready then.”

Twenty minutes later, Baekhyun puts a bag in the backseat of Baekbeom’s Ford, the slick black paint richly new. When he is about to round the car to get in the seat, Baekbeom stops him with a grip on his arm that loosens immediately after Baekhyun whips around.

“What?”

“I lied,” Baekbeom confesses. “Dad didn’t have a stroke. I just wanted you to come with me.”

“What?” Baekhyun’s too befuddled to speak at first. “How could you lie about something like that?”

“Because I need you to come with me without you putting up a fight,” Baekbeom explains. “And it is true Mom told me to come get you.”

Baekhyun frowns. “Why?”

“I proposed to Taeyeon a while ago,” Baekbeom tells him, “and I need you to come to the engagement party. Lots of our family friends are going to be there. We don’t want to have to explain to them you ditched the family to live with a man.”

Baekbeom seems possessed by unrelenting energy. This is the first time he’s been this straightforward about Baekhyun’s sexuality in all the years of their estrangement, everything he’s kept bottled up rushing to the surface at once. And even though Baekbeom was never shy to express his derision, Baekhyun smarts from the disapproval in the groove above his nose.

“Well, why don’t you just tell them just that?” Baekhyun snaps back. “What are you going to tell them when you don’t invite me to the wedding? Or your child’s birthday parties? That I’ve been travelling through Europe all this time?”

“You’re too old to make a scene, Baekhyun,” his brother reproaches him. “Just come with me and then you’ll be free to do whatever you want.” 

“That’s the thing with you all,” Baekhyun says. “You always want me to complete your family portrait, but you don’t give a damn about me. Why don’t you just let me go if you care so much about appearances? I will not change, Baekbeom, no matter how much you and mom try. You need to accept that.” He gets his bag from the backseat and slams it shut. “God knows I’ve already accepted that about you.”

“I don’t get you, Baekhyun.” Baekbeom’s brows slant. “You have everything you could wish for and you throw it away for a phase…”

“It is not a phase,” Baekhyun mutters. “This is who I am.”

“I used to be jealous of you for that,” Baekbeom reveals, “that you could live your life without regrets… but now I’m feeling sorry for you.”

“Yeah?” Baekhyun’s smile is etched by bitterness. It has an awful texture. “And I feel sorry for Taeyeon for putting up with your boring ass.”

“You think that boy upstairs is going to stay with you forever?” Baekbeom spits, poisonous. “Your kind likes to have a good time, have fun—he’s going to leave when the next best thing comes around. Mom was right. You’re resigning yourself to a life of loneliness without your family or money… even good health. Is that what you really want?”

_He’s going to leave when the next best thing comes around._ Baekhyun takes it like a bat to the stomach, wrenching all the air out of him. A long silence elapses before he can collect himself to give a proper answer.

When he was younger, there were countless instants where his conviction would waver. Now, older and wiser, he’s learned it’s not worth it.

“You probably still hate me because of what happened,” Baekhyun surmises, “but that’s already in the past. I’ve moved on and so should you.” Baekhyun steps forward. It is with no small degree of satisfaction that he realizes he’s grown taller, standing at eye level with his brother. “And now, I don’t want to see you ever again. I mean it this time. I may not be able to choose who I am or the family I was born to, but I can choose how to live my life and who to live it with. And I choose to walk away from you.”

Baekbeom’s fists furl and unfurl by his sides. For a beat, he looks like he’s about to say something, in the way his jaw slackens and his eyes flicker. Then every muscle in his face sets back to an impenetrable coldness.

“I’ll give mom your regards.”

Without another word, Baekbeom gets in the car and drives off. Baekhyun stands there for a while longer, watching the car drive into the traffic, a cold gust of wind sweeping the street. Then he heads in the opposite route from his flat—he can’t bear to see Sehun, not like this—and wanders through the streets. It’s near sundown by the time he reaches Chanyeol’s house and doesn’t say a word to his friend’s apparent concern upon seeing him. Chanyeol thankfully knows better than to prod.

On the day of the competition, Baekhyun just wants to go home.

He barely speaks a word. While Chanyeol looks like he’s going to puke, and Seulgi looks like she’s on the edge of a breakdown, Baekhyun looks like he’s ready for a fight. And he is, really—his brother had put him on edge the previous day and the pent-up rage is just waiting for an outlet. It doesn’t help that he has a mild headache that throbs away to the beat of the awful band currently on stage.

“Why do you look like you fell off the bed?”

Turning, Baekhyun finds Kyungsoo behind him. Kyungsoo’s smug face is infuriating to him right now.

“Did that twink boyfriend of yours already dump you?” Kyungsoo takes a step further into Baekhyun’s personal space. “Or did you finally realize you couldn’t do relationships?”

“Shut the fuck up, Kyungsoo!” Baekhyun growls. The rage in his voice shocks Kyungsoo, whose eyes widen just for a second before he recovers. “Mind your fucking business.”

“Oh, did I strike a nerve?”

Baekhyun doesn’t bother with an answer. He lurches at Kyungsoo, pushing him back, so hard Kyungsoo stumbles and crashes against another person. A riot ensues in an instant; Kyungsoo breaks out of his shock and pushes back at Baekhyun, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket, and Baekhyun pushes back at his arms to break free. Chanyeol clamps his around Baekhyun’s waist to pull him off Kyungsoo and Seulgi claws at his jacket, their screams mixing with the rest of the noises and music in the hallway.

“Stop!” a man shouts. The racket in the hallway quietens. He is one of the organizers. “What in the fresh fuck is going here?”

Baekhyun can feel Seulgi and Chanyeol freezing on each side of him. Kyungsoo shrugs off his bandmates and looks at Baekhyun straight on with a quirk to his mouth.

“He started it!”

“No, I didn’t!” Baekhyun shouts back. “He provoked me!”

“I saw him plunge at Kyungsoo,” a guy chimed in, who Baekhyun was sure was part of Kyungsoo’s entourage. “Kyungsoo was just talking to him and that bloke straight up got in his business.”

Baekhyun can’t say anything to that. The man looks at Baekhyun appraisingly and then says, “Alright, you guys are disqualified.”

“What?!” Chanyeol hollers, jumps from Baekhyun’s side to the front. “No, you can’t—”

“I very much can,” the man interrupts, “I’m the fucking organizer.”

“No, please, I’m the one at fault,” Baekhyun pleads. “I’ll leave but let them perform.”

“No, I can’t do that,” the man says firmly. “If I let you play, I’ll have to be lenient to other shit too. It wouldn’t look good. Sorry, mates.”

Baekhyun’s stomach plummets to the floor. Chanyeol walks after the guy absently, in big, mindless steps, then turns back to look disbelievingly at his friends. Shock quickly gives way to anger, his upper lip curved over his lip and his brows furrowed so deep like Baekhyun hasn’t seen before.

“You just got us disqualified!”

“Chanyeol, I—”

“Chanyeol, it wasn’t his fault,” Seulgi intervenes. “Don’t be an arse.”

“No, just shut up,” Chanyeol says. “Just leave me alone.”

The rage has dissipated in the wake of enormous disappointment. Chanyeol’s big almond eyes can contain great joy, but they can also contain a great deal of sadness, Baekhyun has to find out. Without another word, he goes waddling away in the opposite direction, Seulgi’s calls of his name unheeded.

“Your brother truly sounds like a shithead,” Jongdae says, “and I don’t like him at all.”

Jongdae had arrived late at the venue. He’d met Baekhyun outside with Seulgi and immediately realized something was wrong.

“But I still don’t think you should’ve jumped on Kyungsoo like that,” Jongdae goes on, “You know that bitch likes to stir shit at any opportunity—he must’ve realized you were an easy target.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Baekhyun whines, voice muffled by the pillow on his face. “It’s done. It’s over. I fucked up already.”

“You sure did.” Jongdae pats his arm. “That was your little dream… And Chanyeol and Seulgi’s too.” A pause. “You really need to be a big boy and apologize.”

A grunt is all the acknowledgement he’s willing to give his friend for the moment.

“And Sehun…” Jongdae pauses. “What’s up with him?”

Sehun had run into Chanyeol on his way backstage and had taken him home, so he wouldn’t be alone. He’d given Baekhyun a call; Jongdae was the one who took it since Baekhyun still wasn’t in the mood to talk to people.

Baekhyun remains quiet, burying his face in the pillow. It’s a straightforward response if ever there was one. Jongdae sighs, climbs into the bed with Baekhyun, and embraces him, resting his head over Baekhyun’s shoulder blades.

“Everything’s going to be fine, Baekhyunnie,” he whispers. “You’ll see.”

Baekhyun wants to laugh and tell him he’s wrong for once.

Jongdae has already gone when Sehun visits him later in the evening. Baekhyun is on his living room floor sifting through his album boxes and his floor is covered in album jackets and discarded records, with some cassettes littered among the mess. 

“Are you doing a spring cleaning?”

“No, I was just looking for something,” Baekhyun replies, sitting back down on the floor. Sehun sits cross-legged in the same space, careful not to step on any albums.

“About yesterday…” Sehun starts. Baekhyun pretends to be overly interested in a dent on a Smiths album jacket. “Did something happen with your brother?”

“He just was his usual arsehole self.” Baekhyun aims to be casual, but an edge of bitterness seeps into his voice. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

“Well, I do worry,” Sehun insists. “In all the time I’ve known you you’ve never gotten into a fight with someone… and even now you can’t meet my eyes.”

Baekhyun sighs and peers at Sehun. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sehun seems like he’s dying to probe. Before he has a chance to do so, Baekhyun stands to put a record on the turntable.

“My mom used to play this album all the time,” Baekhyun says. A sweet piano melody fills his living room and then Elton John’s voice croons about an L.A. lady.

“That’s our song,” Sehun mentions.

Baekhyun smiles, rueful. “It is.”

Sehun is observing him. There’s curiosity in his gaze, as well as apprehension, as if Baekhyun is going to tell him to leave any moment. A twinge of guilt stabs him right through the heart. Quietly, he goes to sit beside him, and Sehun folds his limbs onto himself in an instinctive reaction.

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun whispers. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“You shouldn’t apologize…” Sehun mumbles. “At least not to me. Whatever happened with your brother, I know it probably wasn’t a good thing. But I want you to know that I’m always here for you.”

Baekhyun smiles at his earnestness. His lovely, beautiful Sehun. “Come here.”

Sehun goes readily, straddling Baekhyun’s thighs without a moment’s hesitation. Baekhyun brushes his bangs back and holds the side of his face. Sehun grasps his wrist, inclining to the touch, and deflates with a sigh.

Something imperceptible feels fractured between them, like a fragile thread about to snap. Baekhyun wants to desperately hold on to this moment with Sehun, with the weight of his lover on him, his scent crowding him, the softness of his skin under his palms. Just for a moment, he wants to fool himself hard enough to believe in Jongdae that everything will be fine.

Sehun’s show opens that Saturday night at eight sharp.

Baekhyun bumps into Chanyeol in the entrance hall to the auditorium. Chanyeol’s smile shifts to a scowl upon seeing him. He makes to shove past him, but Baekhyun holds onto his arm to keep him in place.

“Wait, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun says. Chanyeol is glaring daggers at him. If looks could kill, Baekhyun would be six feet under already. “I want to apologize for what I did. I was dumb and impulsive—”

“And stupid,” Chanyeol fills in for him. “And you shat all over the thing we worked so hard for.”

A fresh dose of guilt trickles through him again. Baekhyun deflates with a sigh. “I know that and I can’t take it back. But we’ve been friends for so long…”

“That’s why I know something must’ve happened for you to react that way,” Chanyeol says. “I’m just frustrated it turned out this way. But I’m also worried about you.”

“So you don’t hate me?”

“I think it’s impossible to hate you,” Chanyeol says, allowing a tiny smile. Baekhyun takes it and returns it in kind. “But I am going to be mad for a little while.”

Baekhyun chuckles, timid, and Chanyeol’s smile doesn’t fade. It’s a step towards righting his wrongs, and for once it’s gone in his favor. He will do whatever it takes to pay back Chanyeol. At last, when Baekhyun says nothing, Chanyeol makes a frustrated sound and pulls Baekhyun into an unexpected hug.

“I know you’re going through shit,” Chanyeol says, “but you need to talk about it. Getting into fights will solve nothing.”

A lump grows in Baekhyun’s throat at the unprompted affection from his friend, despite his fuck-up ruining something so important to him. Baekhyun doesn’t deserve him. He doesn’t deserve any of his friends.

“I know that,” Baekhyun mumbles, wiping a stray tear in stealth. Chanyeol doesn’t notice it once they separate. “And thank you for being so stupidly nice.”

Chanyeol shrugs, a sloppy grin on his face. “Can’t help it.”

They sit side by side at the auditorium to watch the show. The lights go off and the music begins at eight on the dot.

Sehun makes the stage immediately his own as soon as he steps on it. Sehun twirls, jumps, leaps—a petal carried by the wind, bound by the same kind of delicate beauty. Though his body is not delicate in the slightest; his movements are all purposeful and sharp, his body overtaken by an otherworldly force that makes him look ethereal. The lead, a beautiful ginger, is spectacular in her role of the ghostly girlfriend Giselle, matching Sehun skill to skill. But Baekhyun only has eyes for the ballerino. And it seems the audience does too, for when he drops to the floor after his solo number in the second act, the applause from the audience is almost instant.

He meets his boyfriend backstage with a bouquet of lilies and white roses. Sehun is shining with happiness and accomplishment; his hair is damp and his skin is rosy from exertion, and he looks the most beautiful Baekhyun’s ever seen him. If the room wasn’t so crowded with people, he would pull him down and kiss him.

He stamps a kiss on the side of his face when they hug. A woman comes scurrying through the flurry of people and drags Sehun into a hug as she exclaims his name excitedly.

“Honey, you were great!” the woman pulls away to kiss Sehun’s cheek. “Best ballet number I’ve ever seen!”

“Mom, that’s a lie,” Sehun laughs, embarrassed. Baekhyun arches his eyebrows. Sehun’s mom looks no older than thirty-five, though it may be because of her height. She is petite and graceful. “Mom, there’s someone I want you to meet. This is Baekhyun.”

She turns to him with surprise. Her eyes are round, almost comical, and it reminds Baekhyun of Chanyeol. “Hey, handsome!” she says, then she points to Baekhyun while giving Sehun a pointed look. “Is he Baekhyun…?”

“Yeah,” Baekhyun answers for him with a grin. “That is he.”

“Oh, you’re so much cuter than Sehun described you.” Sehun’s mom squeezes his cheeks. Baekhyun laughs as the woman lets go, and proceeds to hug him tight. “I was so excited to meet you. Sehun talks about you all the time.”

“Mom,” Sehun whines and Baekhyun laughs at his tone. “Don’t embarrass me.”

At that moment, Chanyeol and Jongin arrive, coupled with Seulgi and Krystal, armed with their bouquets. They’re all hugging Sehun and laughing, Sehun happier than Baekhyun’s seen him ever. He looks beautiful under all the attention.

“Honey, you need to think about Paris,” his mother urges him, patting his arm. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime offer.”

“Mom,” Sehun warns, looking serious. “Not here.”

“What offer?” Baekhyun asks, smiling.

“To study in Paris,” Sehun’s mother answers. “He’s leaving in two weeks.”

Baekhyun’s heart falls to his knees. It’s like all the noise has been sucked out of the room and all that resonates within him is his labored breathing. Then all the volume returns with the force of a thunderbolt.

“Paris?” Baekhyun asks. “You said yes?”

“I’m still thinking about it.” Sehun isn’t looking at him, but at the bouquet in his arms. “I have until next week to decide.”

“It’s a great opportunity for him.” Sehun’s mother is enthusiastic, seemingly oblivious to the tension. “And we’re looking into moving to Paris so we can all be together there.”

“How long is it for?” Baekhyun’s throat is dry as a desert. “I thought it was just a semester?”

“A year, at most.” Sehun chances a glance at him, and what is written there is plain remorse. “Maybe more if they decide to keep me.”

“Sehun…” Baekhyun doesn’t know what to say. _Why didn’t you tell me all of this?_ Somehow, he feels cheated; he was only aware of a part of it. But he says nothing of this. All the words get jammed in his throat, under the knot that has stolen his voice.

“Hey, are we going to celebrate or what?!” Chanyeol hollers. “We need to get wasted!”

Sehun’s mother splays manicured fingers over her chest, her eyes slanting over to Chanyeol with unconcealed bewilderment.

Dinner is a pleasant affair. Sehun’s mother is an entertaining host, weaving stories and anecdotes like a skilled artisan, which keeps the entire table laughing for most of the evening.

Sehun’s pending Paris offer is in the back of his mind through it all. And Baekhyun can tell it’s in Sehun’s too, if the shadowed looks he casts over to him in furtive moments are anything to go by.

Baekhyun gets a little drunk on wine. It’s always been a thing of his; vodka or rum can get him tipsy, but his most effective way into inebriation is wine. Sehun carries him from the taxi to his flat, with Baekhyun giggling nonsensically and butchering some of his favorite songs on his back. Lying on the bed, the room keeps spinning behind his closed eyes, so he opens them and watches Sehun undress and slip under the covers beside him.

“About the offer…”

“I have some days to make up my mind,” Sehun affirms. No particular tone to gauge his expression. “I’m sorry my mom had to spring it up like that.”

Baekhyun is still hurt that he wasn’t aware of his decision beforehand. But even now, the weight of the revelation is too scary for him to fully grasp.

“I won’t say I’m not pissed,” Baekhyun says, “but you’d already told me… It was just surprising, I guess.”

“Sorry,” Sehun repeats. This time a doleful note lingers in the word. After a while, he adds quietly, “You can come live with me.”

It is so sudden and absurd, Baekhyun laughs. First a giggle, then a chuckle. “That’s crazy. I can’t—I’ve never lived with somebody I dated before.” The proposal makes his head spin again. It’s not that living with Sehun is a terrible idea, they’re pretty much living together already, but it sounds so… definite. His whole life is in Brighton. What will happen if they ever break up? _When_ , his brain corrects in a circumspect tone. This revision leaves a terrible taste in the back of his mouth.

It takes a while for him to catch up to the deafening silence on the other side of the bed. Everything is fuzzy for him, except for the obvious downturned frown upon Sehun’s lips, the set of his eyes locked firmly on the ceiling. Baekhyun doesn’t know what to say—he can’t backtrack on something he truly means. And yet, something within him aches at seeing the obvious anger on Sehun.

“Sehun…”

“I need to sleep,” he says crossly, turning on the bed. “Goodnight.”

The last thing he sees before succumbing to sleep is Sehun’s back in the dark. He dreams of ballerinos, dancing and twirling all around him, but never coming close to touch him, Sehun’s mocking laugh resonating in a space with no way out.

He awakens with a mild hangover at noon alone in his bed. A note from Sehun on the bedside table tells him he left early to catch brunch with his mom and brother. No promise to call or come by later. Guilt spears him cleanly at his reaction to Sehun’s idea, but with the clarity of day upon him, he can’t really say he would’ve given another answer then.

Sehun is young and idealistic, hopeful of so much. Baekhyun has been roughened and weathered and hardened, all against his will. In a different world, he might’ve believed in a different outcome, but in this one, he can’t allow himself that privilege. Not when their loss in the competition is such a fresh wound. Maybe his brother was right and Baekhyun does have the talent to fuck things up for himself.

Baekhyun goes back to sleep and dreams of Sehun, a different time and place, where all they have is joy and laughter and each other.

The rest of May slouches by with the lethargic pace of the sweltering days ahead. Summer can be felt tiptoeing around the corner, with its dry winds and white heat that sticks to Baekhyun like an oppressive lover.

Baekhyun doesn’t see much of Sehun during the week after the show. It’s mainly Baekhyun who is the coward; his phone rings twice a day, but he lets it go to the machine each time. Not even the remorse that comes after drives him to return the call, and he holes up in his flat to will away the hours alone.

Sehun’s absence is loud. Resounding through his flat in the lack of his jackets hanging in his foyer, or his aftershave in his bathroom. Or the sound of his breathing next to him in the morning when he wakes up, his laughter filling every corner of his tiny kitchen.

He knows he’s being childish, but he can’t help it. Not when Sehun may leave so soon and Baekhyun can’t let him go—but he can’t bear the idea of begging him to stay.

His hiding luck runs out one day when Sehun comes to visit him at work. There’s no escape now.

“Hey,” Sehun says, tone light, “long time no see.”

“Hey,” Baekhyun says. “Sorry, I’ve just been busy.”

“Me, too.” Something flashes in Sehun’s gaze, then it is downcast. “Can I walk home with you?”

They don’t talk much in the walk from the store to Baekhyun’s flat. Only about Baekhyun’s ever-growing album collection, Sehun’s new Walkman, and his mother’s return to Paris. The last subject had come with a wince from Baekhyun that he’d barely masked in time.

Shoes in the foyer, jackets on the rack. Silence. While Baekhyun’s putting water in the kettle for tea, he realizes they haven’t touched or kissed in days. It’s an unsettling feeling.

“Remember when I was sick,” Sehun blurts out, “and you took care of me?”

“Why?” Baekhyun walks up to him. “Are you sick?”

“No,” Sehun says, “but I kind of wish I was right now.”

“So I can take care of you?”

Sehun’s nod is obedient. Baekhyun laughs, good-naturedly, then guides Sehun to his bed by his arm. No words are shared when they lie down, facing each other, as dusk creeps into the room.

“It’s been weird not seeing you in days.” Sehun brushes Baekhyun’s hair off his forehead. The touch of his fingertips is ticklish. Baekhyun has been starved. “Not waking up to you next to me every day…”

“I know,” Baekhyun says. “There’s… there’s been a lot on my mind.”

“You can tell me,” Sehun whispers, consoling. “You know you can always talk to me.”

Baekhyun can’t do that. Not when Sehun leaving is his main concern, and it’s obviously at the forefront of Sehun’s thoughts right now. The sigh Baekhyun lets out breaches the vast empty field in the minimal space between them.

“What if we just sleep for a bit?”

Frustration hooks on the corners of Sehun’s mouth. The rest of his features relax with resignation an instant later, but traces of the emotion take longer to leave his stare. A sort of sweetness takes over, like fabric being bleached, and he deflates with a sigh of his own that is infused with yearning.

His breath ghosts over Baekhyun’s mouth when he inches closer, and Baekhyun traces his fingertips over the swell of Sehun’s bottom lip.

“Alright,” he says, fitting his arm over Baekhyun’s middle, “let’s sleep.”

“What are you listening to?”

Jongdae plucks one of Baekhyun’s earphones. Stevie Nicks singing _Landslide_ can be heard and Baekhyun turns his Walkman off quickly.

“Woah, you’re really going through it, huh?”

“I’m not,” Baekhyun mutters. “I just like this song.”

“So has Sehun told you what he’s going to do yet?”

“Nope.” Things haven’t gone back to normal between them after that time in Baekhyun’s flat a week ago. He’d kept his distance and Sehun had allowed it, his calls having tapered and stopped completely. Sehun’s probably still thinking over the Paris offer, and the last thing Baekhyun wants to do is push him towards any choice unintentionally.

“Do you know if he’s mentioned anything to Chanyeol?”

“No,” is Jongdae’s instant reply, “and I don’t think I’d tell you if I knew.”

Baekhyun heaves a sigh, slouching in his seat. “Well, whatever his decision is… I’ll just have to support him.”

“Maybe you could talk about it.” Jongdae’s soft tone constricts Baekhyun’s chest. “It doesn’t have to be the end, Baekhyun.”

It does feel like the end to Baekhyun. The reminder creeps up on him at random times, particularly when he comes across Sehun’s discarded clothes in his flat, a hoodie, a sock; his favorite milk or coffee in the kitchen; the groceries Baekhyun buys knowing that Sehun will turn them into a delicious meal; and each time it never fails to leave a hollowness inside that rings like clanging metal.

“He is leaving, isn’t he?”

During this time with Sehun, he’d really come to believe it would last. That what they had wasn’t just one of those fleeting relationships that would end up in the bottom of a drawer with all the mementos. But Baekhyun guesses he’d just let himself get carried away by his feelings.

It hurts so much more knowing that the person he once thought would never leave is abandoning him, just like his family did.

_You think that boy upstairs is going to stay with you forever?_ Baekhyun has tried his hardest not to take his brother’s words to heart, but they’ve been haunting him incessantly as of late, particularly at night.

Jongdae links their fingers and nests his head on Baekhyun’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Baekhyunnie.”

Some days later, Sehun goes to his flat near seven, as Baekhyun has just come home after his shift. Right off the bat, he can read the bad news on Sehun’s face when he opens the door. Neither of them mentions it.

“I need to talk to you,” Sehun says, as a way of greeting. He leaves his shoes next to Baekhyun’s, so he’s planning on staying for a while at least. “There are a lot of things I want to tell you.”

Baekhyun breathes in as if bracing himself for the worst. In a way, he is. “Do you want some tea?”

Sehun stares at him for a moment, then he nods. “Sure.”

As Baekhyun pours water into the cups, Sehun stands behind him. The tension can be cut with a butter knife. He feels it wound at the end of his spine and tying a knot around his neck.

“I’m going to Paris,” Sehun informs him. “I’m leaving next week.”

Baekhyun’s grip shakes when he puts the kettle back on the counter. There’s a silence that stretches on forever as Baekhyun stares at the cups: one golden, the other a deep amber.

“I know,” Baekhyun reveals, turning to face Sehun. Sehun doesn’t look the least surprised. “I knew it the moment you told me about the offer. And I’m happy for you. It’s a great opportunity and you’ll be close to your family.”

“Okay,” Sehun sighs out, the air leaving him in a trembling stream. “Okay.”

A beat of silence. Baekhyun hates to be the one asking. “So where does that leave us?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me,” Sehun says. “I don’t want to force you or guilt-trip you into deciding. It’s me the one who’s leaving.”

Baekhyun nods feebly. “Well, I don’t know to be honest. You—You’re going to be gone for a whole year, Sehun. And I don’t have the money or the time to go visit you in another country every weekend.”

“But I can come to visit you on holidays and breaks,” Sehun attempts. “Or you could… come live with me.”

“Sehun, I have a life here,” Baekhyun says. “I can’t just leave it all to go with you.”

“So this is it?” Sehun’s words are crystal fragile. “We’re not even going to give it a chance?”

They stare at each other for a long time. They both know the answer to that question. And yet, Baekhyun doesn’t want to hear it.

“What was the other thing you wanted to tell me?”

Sehun strides over to cage Baekhyun against the counter. “That you’re great. That you’re the only thing I—the only thing I want.”

“Don’t be cheesy,” Baekhyun says, voice garbled. He rubs his nose. “You’re only making it worse for me to do this.”

It’s like the first time they kissed—and the second time—in that kitchen. Baekhyun aches at the memories.

Sehun kisses him hard enough to steal his breath. Baekhyun thinks there’ll be bruises in the morning where Sehun touches him—and a part of him hopes that’s the case. The clothes drop to the floor, as do all the tension and the pressure of a rushing future. What goes to bed with them, though, is the heartbreak, and Baekhyun can sense it everywhere they touch and kiss and treasure.

They don’t need to say it to know it’s going to be over when they’re done. So they try to prolong it as much as they can, and Sehun stays with him until the sun rises beyond the window. Baekhyun stands by the window and lights a cigarette.

“I thought you’d quit smoking,” Sehun comments. He’s sitting at the head of the bed, watching Baekhyun intently.

“I picked it back up recently.” Baekhyun pushes the smoke out towards the open window. He’s debating whether to go back to bed with Sehun or staying where he is for a while longer. “Sehun…”

“Yeah?”

Baekhyun stubs the cigarette in the window to go back to bed. Sehun opens his arms for him and Baekhyun goes straight to kissing him. Straddling him, Baekhyun rests his head on his chest.

“You know, good things didn’t happen to me often.” A kiss pressed to Sehun’s sternum. “But when you came to my life, I couldn’t believe you were real, because you were the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Sehun’s voice is a croaky whisper. “Baekhyun…”

“I don’t want you to regret leaving,” he goes on. “I want you to do this for yourself because it’s a great opportunity for you.”

“Everyone’s told me that already,” Sehun murmurs, wrapping an arm around him. “But I… I wish… I wish I didn’t have to lose you to do what I want to do.”

_Good things come at a price._ Baekhyun has learned that lesson well. After all, he had to leave his family and his old life to be who he wants to be. And he’s already got to have Sehun, longer than he thought he would. Deep down, he knew all along it was meant to end at some point. He was lucky enough to have him, even for a while.

A part of him wants to tell Sehun this. Instead, he says, as he props himself and meets Sehun’s glittering eyes, “I know.”

Everything both of them can’t dare to say aloud is written plainly on Sehun’s gaze. Baekhyun kisses Sehun within an inch of his life, and as they make love once more, he kisses every inch of him he can reach, hoping to engrave on his skin all the words he’s been holding inside him for too long. Baekhyun wishes he’d have at least some of Sehun’s courage to finally say those exact three words, but he almost does countless times throughout that night that he’s sure Sehun must understand.

An hour after sunrise, Sehun gets out of bed to put his clothes back on. Baekhyun watches him from the bed in silence, fearing that opening his mouth would dissolve his resolve of letting Sehun walk out of his life.

When Sehun finally leaves, Baekhyun pads over to the window to watch him go one last time. Sehun stops in the street and turns back to look up at the building. From above, Baekhyun smiles, as much as he can, knowing that he’s saying goodbye to the love of his life. Sehun returns the smile, a genuine, tender smile that Baekhyun tries to commit to memory on the spot.

Eventually, Sehun turns back to the road and crosses it toward the bakery on the other street. And then he disappears.

**Author's Note:**

> heyyy i made [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/catsonclouds) so you can dump your questions or whatever :3
> 
> thank you for making it to the end! comments are always appreciated ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ


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